


"The Mike Thing"

by MessOfCurls



Series: Wax and Wane [15]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Beer, Blow Jobs, Climbing Class, College, Coming Out, Crushes, Dorms, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Gay, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, OT3, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Pre-Game(s), Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessOfCurls/pseuds/MessOfCurls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike visits Chris and Josh at college and learns a few things about his friends. Mike is <i>very</i> bad at beer pong.</p><p>(see tags)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chris opened the door to reveal Mike in profile. The brunette had a duffel bag thrown over one shoulder and was underdressed in jeans, a sweatshirt and a varsity jacket dusted with a thin layer of rapidly melting snow. It seemed that somewhere between the entrance to the dorms and finding their room he'd brushed any errant snowflakes from his hair, which glistened wetly in the cheap light of the corridor. His appreciative gaze followed a towel-clad student down the hall, only breaking off to meet his friend’s eyes once the door to her room had closed behind her.

“Hey.” Mike said finally with an easy grin.

“Dude!” Chris pulled the brunette into an overly enthusiastic hug, receiving a rather overdone ‘oof!’ for his trouble. 

“She's got a boyfriend.”

At the sound of Josh’s voice, Chris released Mike and stepped aside.

Mike shrugged. “Her loss.”

Josh stepped forward with a soft smile and gave their guest a less exaggerated welcome hug. “Hey, man.”

“You cut your hair.” Mike said, standing back to look at him curiously while Chris closed the door behind them.

“Yeah…” Josh ran his hand through it self-consciously. “College. Fresh start or something...” he trailed off dismissively.

“Suits him, right?” Chris said, throwing Mike an encouraging look.

“Yeah… Bit different, but it works?” Mike said after a moment’s scrutiny. It was nearly a compliment.

“What happened? Get lost?” Chris asked while he brushed away the snow dusting Mike’s shoulders. “We thought you’d be here hours ago.”

Though college had brought Chris and Josh closer, it had also separated them from their friends back home who were now spread far and wide across the States following their own pursuits with the exception of the twins who had both managed to get into the same college on different courses. Mike's path had taken him to the sunny climes of the West Coast.

“Don’t get me started.” Mike shrugged off Chris' attempts to help with exaggerated exasperation. “My phone cut out halfway here. Luckily I had my sweet navigational skills to fall back on.”

Chris remembered the last time said skills had come into play, dragging out a four hour road trip to a solid six hours. He held out his hand with a chuckle and Mike gave him the offending phone, its battery long since expired. He retreated to his desk to put it on charge while Josh took Mike’s duffel from him, dumping it on the floor at the foot of his bed.

“Make yourself at home.”

A few steps into the room with his belongings being tended to, Mike shimmied out of his jacket then folded it over his arm. “Well... This is nice.” He looked around at what was a well lived-in but for once rather tidy dorm room. “Cosy.” He sat down on Josh’s bed and placed the jacket beside him.

Chris and Josh exchanged a look. Mike was the master of the backhanded compliment.

“Hey, not all of us can live it up in Cali frat houses with our bros.” Chris replied, sinking into the bed opposite, adding, “Nice sweater.”

The sweater in question bore the three Greek characters of Mike’s newly joined fraternity. Not even Chris' mocking tone could change how he felt about that.

“I guess not all of us can.” he confirmed with a self-satisfied smile, brushing off the comment.

“...Kok? Seriously?” Chris half-asked through a smirk.

“Kappa Theta Kappa, ass.”

“Sure…”

A towel landed on his lap. With a nod of thanks, Mike ran it over his hair. A moment later, an unopened bottle of beer sunk into the thick comforter beside him. Josh handed Chris another from the freshly opened crate then settled into the battered office chair by his desk, spinning it round to face his friends.

“It’s so freakin’ cold out there. How do you even deal with it?”

“Layers, man.” Josh said, tugging at the chest of his hoodie, “It's all about the layers.”

~*~

Two beers later and Mike was starting to feel his toes again. Just.

“So… Me and Em are on a break.”

Chris' initial instinct was to feign ignorance, his face already making the vague motions of surprise, but he wasn’t a convincing actor.

“We heard.” Josh admitted.

“Who?”

“Jess. Sam...” he trailed off, then sheepishly added, “...Hannah and Bee.”

Mike looked less than thrilled with, but entirely unsurprised by the answer. News travelled fast. He played it off with a shrug.

“Sorry, bro.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Mike took a swig of his drink then laughed. “Get this. She said that I’m ‘not serious’ about us.” He gave the pair an incredulous look. “I’ve been visiting her at college. Jesus, we went to _senior prom_ together.”

If he admitted it to himself, it wasn’t the break that bothered him. Things had sort of fizzled out in the time they’d spent apart. With a few hundred miles between them and pledge duties keeping him an unhealthy combination of busy and sleep-deprived, it had become a chore to muster up the same level of enthusiasm to see Em when he did actually have any time to visit. No, the actual break up wasn’t what bothered him. It was the idea of Emily screwing someone else, maybe one of those preppy guys who seemed to buzz around her when he visited… He shook the thought away and fixed his winning smile back in place. “It’s fine. A few weeks and she’ll come to her senses.”

The statement was met with sympathetic, if not entirely convinced, nods of agreement.

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about that.” Mike waved the conversation away and leaned back on the bed. “What about you guys? Co-ed dorms...?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

Chris wasn’t really sure how to answer that particular question. His own relationship status wasn’t exactly as public as Mike’s, at least not among their friends back home. “Um...”

“What do you do when you have the ladies over?”

“We’ve got a system.”

Chris looked at Josh. Not even the hint of a smile, no amusement, just fact - deadpan as you like.

“Right?” Josh asked, turning to the blond.

And then it came: the telltale curl of his lips as he raised the beer bottle to his mouth, almost imperceptible. Mike certainly hadn’t noticed.

Chris broke into a grin. “Yeah,” he agreed, the word accompanied by a brief sound of stifled mirth, “Yeah. We’ve got a system.”

~*~

At about 3 a.m. it became apparent exactly what that system entailed.

Once the cold left his bones, thanks to the combination of alcohol and the pleasant heat of the small dorm room, Chris insisted they head out to a nearby bar. With a little encouragement and the benefit of a few extra layers borrowed from his hosts’ combined wardrobes, they ventured out with the understanding that tonight wouldn't be a ‘heavy one’. True to their word, they returned to the dorm not long after midnight and, after a few more drinks, turned in for the night.

A few hours later, Mike heard… something. The sound of restless sleep, maybe? It was a bitch for them to share a bed on his account, especially a single. He’d offered to camp out on the floor - he even had a sleeping bag in the trunk of his car for that exact reason - but his friends had insisted. He was the guest, after all. And so, after some gentle persuasion, he'd taken Josh's bed for the night on the marginally tidier side of the room.

Facing the wall, Mike opened his eyes, his vision still blurry from the barely snatched hour or so of sleep.

More movement: the rustling of a thick comforter. Perhaps he wasn't the only one awake. A stifled sound, swiftly followed by gentle shushing, opened his eyes a little wider.

Perhaps Chris hadn't been exaggerating for once. The blond had confided in him about their mutual friend several times, explaining the dark circles under Josh’s eyes caused by troubled sleep. He’d suffered with it for years, apparently, though Mike hadn't witnessed it till now. It was probably best to politely ignore it, right?

Mike rolled over beneath the comforter and stretched out his legs, attempting to find a more comfortable sleeping position, and for a while the room was silent. Tiredness closed his eyes, sleep creeping in at the edges once more until a sound broached the quiet: a soft creak from the other bed, followed by movement beneath the covers and body weight shifting against the mattress. His eyes still weren’t used to the dark, but he could just about make out the vague unlit shape of the comforter on the other bed, only a few feet away, taking on the forms of the bodies beneath it.

A whisper. A sound sort of like hushed laughter. Another muffled whisper he couldn’t quite make out, swiftly followed by one he definitely did.

“Dude, he's _right there_ …”

It might've been Chris' voice, it was difficult to tell.

Mike froze. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. As far as they were concerned, their guest was fast asleep, that much he could gather. But with each passing second, sleep’s grip on him loosened.

Should he say something?

He opened his mouth, ready to break the silence, but any words he might’ve uttered died in his throat, killed off by familiar sounds being made in an unexpected place.

There was no mistaking that his friends were both up the same end of the bed, not topping and tailing as he’d first assumed. Their heads were silhouetted against the covers, just about visible.

They were…

_Right._

If those sounds were anything to go by, they were making out. That’s what he was hearing and what he was pretty certain he was seeing. 

His mind went blank. Had he really drunk that much? He'd been sort of tipsy by the end of the night, sure, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

What the hell were you supposed to do in a situation like this?

It wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on people in compromising positions - the bedrooms of high school and college parties alike were rarely unoccupied by the end of the night - but never two guys, and certainly not _these_ two guys. 

Chris and Josh.

_Chris_ and _Josh_.

Making out.

A hundred questions looped around his sleep-addled brain, but one prevailed above all others - simple and to the point.

_What… the hell..?_

Relief welled up in him at the prospect of his newly acquired and entirely unwilling position of voyeur coming to an end when the sounds from the other bed trailed off. But if his own experiences had taught him anything, make out sessions - particularly those beneath the sheets - rarely signalled the end of a night. He was quickly proven right - his initial relief most definitely premature - when the outline of the comforter changed shape, adapting to the position of the bed’s occupants, arching ever so slightly. A set of feet emerged from beneath the covers at the foot of the bed - toes down, heels up.

_Now_ he couldn’t say anything. That ship had sailed a long time ago, but this sealed the deal. This wasn’t the time to have a conversation with either of them about… about anything, let alone what was happening right then. Right _there_. Literally _right there_. It was just as well that he wasn’t in a position to speak, because he was genuinely speechless.

To give them credit, there was very little to be heard after that, which in some weird way was actually sort of considerate. But if you knew what you were listening for, there was plenty. The occasional creak of the bed frame caused by shifting weight, the small intermittent huffs of unsteady breath and the telltale wet sounds of a busy mouth. Yep, he knew those sounds, too.

“Nn… S-slow down…”

It was so quiet, nearly inaudible, but Mike didn’t miss the whispered warning.

Shell-shocked. That was exactly the term for what he was. It was like watching a car crash; he couldn’t look away; eyes open and ears picking up every little sound thanks to some kind of morbid fascination. He could have been lying there in the dark for minutes or for hours, he didn’t know. Either way, it seemed way, _way_ too long.

When his eyes adjusted to the dark, revealing more subtle details of the scene playing out in the next bed - the slight rise and fall of the comforter made by someone unseen and the dark shape of a hand gripping the headboard - Mike closed them firmly shut and rolled over to face the wall again. The movement seemed to go unnoticed by his friends because they certainly didn’t stop. Short of leaving the room and breaking the charade of sleep, it was about as much privacy as Mike could give them, considering they hadn’t given him much choice in the matter.

Even after his two hosts had drifted off to sleep - ragged breathing replaced by even snores - Mike was left very much awake.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday wasn't awkward, despite the night before. Why would it be? The two roommates were utterly clueless. 

Mike awoke to the sound of Josh returning to the room, dressed with shower damp hair. Chris had been in bed, but at the older man’s return, he quickly got up to play the good host.

It was as if nothing had happened. Business as usual.

They went out for breakfast to a place his hosts dined at often enough for the waitress to know them on sight. Scrambled eggs, bacon and an impressive number of syrup-soaked pancakes later, and they were talking like old times. Little jabs back and forth, long rambling anecdotes, stupid jokes. Nothing had changed. And yet… 

Mike liked to think he was a good reader of people. It was one of those innate skills that made him who he was, allowing him to navigate the social world with apparent ease. Sure, it was like old times, but there were subtle differences that he might not have picked up on without the benefit of newly gained insight: the sidelong glances that went on longer than were just plain ‘friendly’; the way they talked - finishing each other’s stories when one of them was overcome by laughter or too busy chewing an element of their massive meal. And Josh? The blond's good mood could be chalked up to his personality. Chris always projected an air of good humour, whether genuine or for the benefit of others, but Josh was a different story. Mike knew enough about the older man’s problems to recognise that the smiles gracing his lips and the quips tumbling from his mouth with such ease were a rarity. Though he hadn't seen Josh at his worst - thankfully spared from what Chris, Sam and the twins had witnessed - he knew this was unusual.

Everything was slotting into place. They were always in each other's pockets; the way Chris spoke about his partner in crime, especially during the bad times; going to prom together, who could forget that? Neither of them had ever had a girlfriend, at least not that Mike knew about. All the clues were there and he was playing relationship CSI.

“It took the guy two days to find it in the snow.”

Chris chuckled as Josh finished the story and dipped a forkful of pancake into the pool of syrup on the brunette’s plate. They shared a fleeting smile.

Yup. Mike knew that look and those stupid smiles. They were acting the same goofy way all guys did when they were getting laid. Mike was no mathematician, but it all added up.

“You okay, dude?”

He realised belatedly that the pair were looking at him curiously from across the table. He must've fallen quiet for a little too long.

“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling faintly.

The day passed at a pleasant, relaxed pace; their schedule full. Bowling only proved how little had changed on the surface of things with Mike walking away the winner of all three games. A late lunch, pool and a few beers (it's after midday, c’mon) went by without a lull in the conversation, followed by a leisurely walk back to the dorms. Then it was time for the freshmen to pregame while they got ready to go out for the night, taking turns to alternate between drinking, shooting the breeze and gussying up in the limited space in front of the wall mirror.

Chris went for a shower and, despite what Mike half-expected, Josh hadn’t followed suit. Instead, Mike and Josh were left alone in the dorm room with the conversation ticking along over the music playing from Josh's laptop.

_And the strangeness continues._

No, not strange, exactly. But different, certainly. Usually Mike was the one to lead their interactions, comfortable enough in himself to steer them through conversations with Josh taking a backseat and simply reacting and chiming in when appropriate. Tonight was different. Mike could hardly get a word in edgewise and, as it turned out, that wasn't unpleasant.

“It's not like it's a bad thing, you know? It sounds like they're making their own friends, but they get to see each other too. It works, I guess?” Josh smiled. “Twin thing, probably.”

Mike nodded from his spot on Chris' bed, watching Josh talk via the mirror's reflection as the older man adjusted the long-sleeved t-shirt he'd put on the moment before.

“How about you? Is it weird being down there on your own?”

Their eyes met in the reflection, broken momentarily as Josh picked up an overshirt before meeting his gaze again.

Inquisitive. Showing genuine interest. Josh had displayed those traits before, but more often than not he seemed distracted; asking a question but his mind visibly wandering midway through the answer.

“Ah, it's fine. That's what phones are for.”

Josh laughed as he put on the second shirt and began buttoning it up. “Yeah. I think I've seen more of Sam on Skype than I did during finals.”

“Hey, at least you've got Chris. How's that working out?”

“It's good.” Josh replied, not missing a beat. “Messy, I guess, but I'm no better.” His gaze drifted to his desk, now home to more than a few empty cans as well as the standard mess of textbooks. “Yeah, it's nice.” He shrugged finally, his attention returning to his shirt, which he'd somehow managed to button up incorrectly. An exhale and he started over.

Josh wasn't giving much away, Mike had to give him credit for that. Sipping at his drink, Mike watched Josh scrutinise his own reflection and found himself following suit. The guy looked good, there was no denying it - the healthiest he'd looked in a long time. The painfully thin frame they'd become used to in days gone by and the rarer, slightly paunchy version of Josh that had appeared once or twice were both absent, replaced by a new creature. He was still on the slim end of the spectrum, but there was definition there beneath his clothes where before there were only jutting angles and a slightly gaunt edge.

“What? You like what you see, bro?”

He'd been staring too long. Mike recovered quickly with a raised eyebrow. “You wish.”

A friendly smirk and Josh was focusing on his reflection once more. “I was thinking.” he began, his shirt dealt with and his attention briefly on his hair before he dispensed with the mirror, turning to face his friend, “Maybe we all go away together.”

“We?”

“You, me, Chris and the usual suspects.” Josh picked up his drink. “Hannah suggested it. We thought maybe we could take a road trip to my parents’ place. The lodge?”

“Oh yeah?”

Mike had never been there himself, but he'd seen photos framed by phone screens and heard enough stories to know where Josh meant. It was difficult _not_ to know about it. After all, not everyone’s parents owned a mountain.

“Why not? It'll be awesome, and there's room enough for everyone. Picture it,” Josh paused to take a drink and paint the scene, “Huge log fire, fully stocked bar, home cinema and nobody around to hear us for miles.” He smiled. “It'd be fun to get the old gang back together.” A slightly bashful shrug followed. “I miss you guys.”

He was switched on. Not that uncomfortable, twitchy kind of switched on, but just… there. Present. Sharing that bit of him that seemed reserved for Chris and Sam, hidden away on the sidelines or up in the bleachers. It was rare to witness it quite so plainly.

“Alright! I'm there, you know it.” Mike replied, “Your parents are cool with it?”

“I haven't asked. One thing at a time, my friend.”

Lost in his observations, a thought finally occurred to Mike that made him groan, sparking curiosity in his friend's eyes. He hadn't considered the implications of ‘the usual suspects’.

“What's up?”

“You inviting Em?”

“Oh…” It was clear from Josh's expression that he hadn't considered the latest drama while making his plans. “I mean... Yeah? Probably? She _is_ our friend.”

“Hmm.”

The alarm on Josh's phone began to beep, calling out for attention. Josh switched it off and slipped the phone into his pocket before opening the drawer of his nightstand.

“Don't worry about it. I won't send any invites out. Won’t even mention it till I know if we can anyway.” He took out the pill tray and flicked open the small ‘Saturday’ compartment with his thumbnail. “You might even be back together by then, right?”

Mike watched Josh tip the pills into his hand before he palmed them into his mouth, washing them down with a mouthful of beer. That was probably fine, wasn't it? Mike wasn't a doctor, but maybe you weren't supposed to mix… It wasn't his business.

That was another thing: Josh hadn't kept his health issues a secret - concealing them was nigh on impossible - but Mike couldn't remember ever seeing him take any medication before. He'd assumed it was something Josh preferred to do in private, but right then it didn't seem like a problem. There was no embarrassment colouring the way Josh tossed the plastic container into the drawer as he turned back to him expectantly.

“Yeah, it's possible, I guess.” Mike replied, picking up where he’d left off.

The door closed as Chris rejoined them; dressed with a towel hung limply over his shoulders. “Hey. Nearly ready?”

“Readier than you are.”

“Dude, you can't rush perfection.” It was said with a straight face, but it didn't take long for Chris to break into a smile as Josh shook his head to himself.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, bro.”

“Mike?”

Mike raised his bottle and wiggled it around, sloshing the beer against the glass. “I'm good.”

Orders taken, Josh fetched a bottle for Chris, who was now fussing over his hair in front of the mirror. With little room to get past, he moved the blond aside by gently placing his hands on his hips.

The overly familiar touch didn't go unnoticed.

~*~

Several hours had passed since they'd set out and Mike was falling behind. What with pledging and generally keeping his body in check, the last few months had been almost completely dry. He'd half anticipated that a weekend with Chris and Josh would be a boozy one, but it still surprised him quite how much it had gone to his head. It was his own fault. He'd forgotten how much the pair could knock back when they set their minds to it.

“How did you find this place?” he asked, raising his voice to compete with the music.

The place in question was a dimly lit dive bar that seemed to be a hit with the college crowd. They hadn't been asked for ID, which probably accounted for most of the venue's business.

“A guy in our block told us about it.” Josh replied, leaning over the table to make himself heard, “What, you don't approve?”

Mike gave Chris a wry smile. “You never told me they opened a bar inside your iPod.”

Narrowed eyes and the slight downturn of his mouth signalled Chris' thoughts on the comment.

“I’m saying the music’s garbage.” Mike clarified, leaving a pause for a rebuttal that never came. “Like _your_ taste in music.” Another pause. “The music _you_ listen to.” His insistent smile spread a little wider. “The--”

“Yeah, I got it.” Chris cut in, finding it difficult not to smile with Mike grinning back at him.

Josh snickered. “Can't argue with two-for-one shooters though.”

Mike grimaced at the thought.

After a quick inspection of the bottles on the table, Josh drained his own. “Same again?”

Before Chris or Mike could protest, he slipped down from his stool and went to the bar, leaving his friends alone.

Mike looked across the table at Chris, who filled the silence with a subtle wiggling of his shoulders in time with the music, entirely intended to raise a smile from his companion.

“Cheesy as hell.”

“What?” Chris looked outraged. “This is my _jam_.”

Chris closed his eyes and the wiggling continued, and it didn't take long for him to ramp up his enthusiasm. When he gradually accompanied the movements with a bit of lip synching for good measure, Mike knew the blond's antics would only escalate, and it was only a matter of time before they were confined to the bar stool no longer. Finally, Mike cracked, the look of faux disdain dissolving into laughter. Satisfied, Chris grinned at him, his work complete.

“Hey… What's your deal?”

Mike looked back at him, not really understanding the question. 

“You were quiet today.” Chris considered dropping it, but pushed on. “...Em?”

“Nah.”

That was actually the truth. Perhaps he'd thought about her that morning for the briefest of moments, and earlier when Josh had mentioned the trip, but she hadn't played on his mind like days gone by.

“How's he doing?” Mike asked, changing the subject.

The pair glanced over at the ‘he’ in question. Josh was at the bar, distracted from his supply run by a guy and girl who Chris vaguely recognised, deeply involved in a conversation about God knows what. Chris watched Josh say something that elicited a bout of laughter from the couple. 

How was Josh doing? 

Chris turned back to Mike. “It's all good, bro. He's meeting people, passing classes. He's good.”

That was putting it lightly. Seeing Josh like this - happy and making social connections so easily - filled Chris with such contentment that he didn't really know what to do with the feeling. Over the course of their friendship, he’d never seen Josh so genuinely and utterly happy - the absolute realisation of everything Chris had always wanted for him. “ _Really_ good.”

There it was again - that look that all but confirmed everything for Mike - but it didn't seem like any real answer was forthcoming.

“Look. I gotta ask. How long have you two been…?”

Chris squinted at him through clear lenses and leaned closer, not hearing him over the music. “Huh?”

“...Screwing?”

Chris heard but didn't understand. “What?”

Mike exhaled and tried again, this time gesturing to Josh then back to Chris. “You two. Screwing. How long?”

Short of a lewd game of charades, Mike wasn't sure how else to get the question across. Thankfully he didn't have to resort to that. The slight widening of Chris' eyes in response was confirmation enough that he'd been heard this time. Perhaps if he wasn't on his… fifth, was it? It was probably his fifth beer. Perhaps if that wasn't the case he might have asked the question with a little more tact. But screw it, he'd asked now.

“...What d’you mean?” Chris asked cautiously. 

The brunette tilted his head and gave his friend a conspiratorial look. “Come on.”

Chris smiled defensively, lips parted, but no words found him for once. There was a long uneasy moment of awkward silence before the blond looked down at his nearly empty beer bottle.

“Last night…?” Mike pressed.

A look one step beyond embarrassment but just shy of utter mortification slackened Chris' jaw. Gradually his features settled into an unsure smile. “...I told him it was a bad idea.” he murmured.

“Knew it.” Mike said smugly, knocking back a mouthful of beer, “Fucking knew it.”

The strangely self-conscious look remained, but Chris finally lifted his gaze. “A while.” he admitted with a shrug.

_Now what?_

Mike had his suspicions confirmed, but where did that leave them? It was still strange, even on the heels of Chris' admission, to know what he knew. Hundreds of fresh questions began to surface. At another time he might not have pushed his luck, but with Chris not denying it like he'd expected, Mike felt bolder. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I dunno, dude. We…”

Chris and Josh had talked about it long before Mike had arrived and had been in two minds about telling him. At first it seemed like a good idea to get it out the way, like pulling off a bandaid. After all, hadn't the girls been entirely supportive? Excited for them, even. But Chris knew the amount of deliberation even speaking to Josh’s family about it had taken, and how much it had troubled the older man even though Josh was first to admit they wouldn't care. So Chris hadn't pushed the issue and the pair came to an agreement that if it felt right they'd bring it up. With the matter officially brought up, Chris supposed they could talk about it.

“I'm not some kind of…” Mike searched for the word, “...homophobe, or whatever. You know that, right?”

“I know, I know.” Chris scratched the back of his head. “It's just all… kinda new.”

“Hey. Whatever makes you happy.” Mike shrugged, inebriation rendering the movement lazy. A reassuring hand clamped around the blond's wrist, patting it firmly. “Doesn't matter to me.” He smiled, “More for the rest of us.”

At this rather endearing gesture, Chris chuckled relief. Of _course_ it was fine. Mike was many things - a poser, sometimes unbearably arrogant, and a total player to boot - but he was also understanding, charming and, most importantly, a decent guy. Not everyone always saw that.

“Thanks.”

Mike shrugged again. “For what?”

Another mouthful and Chris' drink was finished.

“So are you, like, gay now?”

Okay, this was slightly less endearing, but the quizzical and strangely naive way Mike asked brought forth another chuckle from the blond. “It's not like that. I still appreciate the ladies.” With mirth still gracing his lips, Chris glanced over at Josh, who was leaning across the bar to order their drinks. His smile softened. “You like who you like, right?”

Mike frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

When Josh returned, placing several shot glasses with questionable contents and three more bottles of beer between them, his friends were looking at him strangely. He knew that look: he’d walked in on something. “What?”

Mike took a beer from the cluster of bottles and watched Chris beckon Josh over, leaning in close to talk in his ear through cupped hands. A moment later, Josh met Mike’s eyes uneasily.

“It's cool.” Chris said aloud, “Right?”

Mike nonchalantly shook his head. “I don’t care.”

Josh's apprehension gave way to a rather sheepish look. “Well, _fuck_.”

He muttered the exclamation through a relieved smile as Chris pulled him into an affectionate headlock, planting an overblown kiss on his captive’s temple before releasing him. Straightening up, Josh seemed slightly more relaxed. “Fuck…” he repeated, taking a beer and laughing nervous relief.

With the air cleared, Mike felt more at ease, no longer forced to keep his suspicions and unasked questions to himself. “Who else knows?”

“My sisters.”

“Sam.” Chris added, taking a bottle while Josh edged up onto the bar stool beside him.

Mike shook his head. At least he wasn't the only one who'd been completely in the dark. “That’s it?”

“For now, I guess?”

With his curiosity finally sated, Mike leaned forward on the stool and raised his bottle. “Well, good for you. Now,” he gestured apprehensively to the small glasses between them, “What the hell are these?”

And there it was. Back to normal. Everything as it should be.

Chris regarded the brunette with gratitude. He’d managed to make something that, while it may not have troubled him so much, had played on Josh's mind so easy.

“Screech.” Josh replied, his former confidence slowly returning at this new line of questioning.

“The hell is Screech?”

Chris chuckled. “Eesh. What do they teach you down in Cali?”


	3. Chapter 3

“How are you so bad at this?” Josh asked.

“Shut up…”

Chris joined him in a smirk at their guest's expense.

Mike had one eye closed, the ping pong ball gripped between his thumb, index and middle fingers as he lined up his shot. It should have been easy - he was usually really good at this - but his opponents’ trash talk was more than a little distracting. He threw the ball and cursed as it missed the mark entirely, bouncing off the makeshift table in the direction of Chris' bed.

“Haaaa. Nice.”

“Screw off.” Mike muttered, throwing the blond a look, but there was no genuine malice in it.

Chris returned a moment later with the ball. “You know the rules.”

With a weary and entirely sarcastic smile, Mike pulled his shirt up over his head then dumped it on the floor. The reveal was accompanied by an appreciative whistle from Chris. “There. Happy?”

“ _Very_.”

Mike didn't know exactly when beer pong became strip beer pong, or even whose suggestion it was, but he had a suspicion it was around the same time he started losing. The rules were simple: if you made a shot, the other player took a drink. If you missed, you stripped. With three of them playing, they were tagging in, winner stays on. Only, Mike was tagging in and out more often than he'd like.

Chris paused, hand poised and ready to take his shot. “Back left, here we go.” A flick of the wrist and a moment later a splash signalled victory. Turning on the spot, Chris threw his arms up in the air, showboating to imaginary spectators. “And the crowd goes wild!”

Mike sighed. The gloating was getting tiring. If he could just wipe that smug look off his face... 

Reluctantly, Mike removed the ball from the half full cup and downed the contents, then turned away from the table set up between the beds and handed the ball to Josh, tagging out with a slap of palms. When the older man got up, Mike took his place on the bed against the wall. “Since when are you good at anything involving skill?”

“It's beer pong, bro. Doesn't take a genius to throw a ball.”

“Clearly.”

“Don't be a sore loser. Why can't you be more like this guy and take your losses like a champ?” Chris asked, gesturing to Josh, who promptly flipped him off before lining up his shot again. 

Another miss had Chris' grin spreading to an unbearably smug width.

“Damn it…” Josh muttered with a sigh, working loose the buttons of his shirt.

“See? Graceful in defeat.”

“Gracious, dumbass.” Josh corrected him.

“No, no. _Graceful_.” Chris replied with an exaggerated wink.

“And how are you still wearing more than me?” Mike asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Layers, bro. I told you. It's all about the _layers_.” Josh shrugged off his shirt to reveal the long-sleeved t-shirt beneath. He returned his focus to his opponent. “Come on, cochise. Best shot.”

Chris - still wearing everything he'd dressed in that day bar one shoe - was a picture of confidence as he threw the ball, but his effort was too gentle and the ball fell short of its target. “ _Man…_ ”

Josh's face lit up. “Wait a minute. D’you hear that?” He cupped his ear. “I think that's… Yeah, that's the sound of you sucking.”

“Whatever, bro.” Chris looked down at himself with a huff. “So much to choose from…” Finally, he removed his glasses and held them out to Mike. “Here, I’m feeling generous.”

A waved hand dismissed the offer. “Pfft, I don't want your charity.”

“Suit yourself.” Chris placed the glasses on the desk behind him. “You guys need to start winning before I sober up.”

Josh had the ball again.

“Miss it.”

“Shut up, man.”

Josh tried to focus. As time went on, the arrangement of red cups became less solid in his vision.

“...Hey, J?”

Josh held out his hands in a show of exasperation. “What?”

“Nothing.” Chris could barely contain the mischief in his eyes. “Go on. Take your shot.”

Josh muttered something to himself and threw the ball before the blond had another chance to interrupt. It landed in one of the cups, much to Chris' chagrin and the collective amusement of Mike and Josh. 

Mike relished the moment, savouring Chris' obvious displeasure. “About freakin’ time! How d’you like them apples, Charlie?”

Chris downed the cup and wiped the ball on his coat before chucking it in Mike's direction. Crumpling the empty cup in one hand, he returned to the bed. “I don't know why you're laughing, Munroe. You're up.”

It was a fair point. Mike got to his feet with a groan. A missed shot later and he was staring up at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint precisely when his luck had deserted him. He wasn't used to losing. “Oh, come _on_.”

The pair were insufferable now. Chris was sprawled out on the bed, staring up at him with that stupid smile on his face while Josh shook his head through incredulous laughter. He was grinning at Mike again, quite open in his mockery. “You're just so _bad_ at this.”

“Screw you _and_ you.”

He looked down at himself. His torso was bare and his shoes and socks were long gone. How many times had he lost for this to happen? Hadn't he been wearing a jacket at one point? 

Somewhat unsteady on his feet, he unbuckled his belt, pulling it through denim belt loops till it slithered from his hands onto the floor. A lucky shot from Josh sealed his fate and with laughter ringing in his ears, Mike downed yet another cup and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm as he flopped down onto the bed. In the wake of his defeat, the laughter died down.

Chris had the ball, but it seemed like he was concentrating harder than before.

“So, how does this work, then?” Mike asked, his words carrying the slightest of slurs.

Chris raised an eyebrow. If this was an attempt to psych him out, it was kind of working - he had no clue what Mike was talking about. “What, this? Don't pretend you don't know the rules, though that would explain a hell of a lot.”

“No… this. Your deal, you two. How does _that_ work?”

Ever since the pair had confirmed his suspicions, the thought had nagged at him, unvoiced at the back of his mind. He didn't ask out of any actual necessity, it was just one of those things that he didn't really have an answer to. An itch that needed scratching. Twelve hours of drinking (more than that, maybe? He couldn't really remember) had loosened his tongue, switching off the filter that was usually there for good reason.

“Really?”

Chris glanced over at Josh, wondering what he was missing. A moment later, he caught up. “ _Oh…_ ” He gave Mike a knowing look then shook his head. “Dude… No.” The blond took his shot and promptly missed. He kicked off his other shoe, reduced to socks while Josh retrieved the ball. “I blame you for that.”

“Hey, I didn't do anything.” Mike protested. 

“Sure.”

Josh squinted at the table, trying hard to calculate his shot.

“Seriously though--”

Josh cut Mike’s sentence short by holding up his free hand to silence him, his gaze still trained on the remaining cups.

“...I'm only--”

“Sshhh!”

Mike's obedient silence didn't help - another miss.

“Shit.” Josh pulled off his remaining sock then turned to Mike, who was watching him expectantly. “It just works, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” Mike raised his hands defensively. “Only curious.”

“Yeah, you sound it.” Chris snickered as he rolled the ball around in his palm. “Dude, you had your chance to find out and you blew it. I'm an honest man now.” 

It took a moment for Mike to piece together what Chris was rambling on about. It seemed like he was maybe referring to drunken encounters from a lifetime ago. Sober, he might’ve felt a bit embarrassed, but right then he simply felt confused. 

“That's not wha... what I meant.” Mike replied, edging himself up the bed with his elbows. “I can't get my head ‘round the logistics, that's all.”

Josh and Chris shared a look.

“Logistics? Really?”

“Yeah, J. Logistics… Unf.” Chris grinned at Mike. “You’re lucky you’re good-looking.”

“D’you talk to girls like that?”

Josh's remark, coupled with the scowl Mike aimed in his direction, triggered a bout of laughter from Chris.

Mike’s frown slowly gave way to contemplation once more. “It’s just funny. You two... you know.”

“Fuck you very much.” Josh muttered, though there was no edge to it.

“Come on. I told you about Em. ‘bout all of them.”

“Yeah. No one asked you to.” Josh replied, shaking his head. Sure, they'd had their talks, but the whole comparing notes thing? And when it involved one of your friends? There were some things Josh really wished he could unhear about Emily. “Since when d’you care about our sex lives anyway?”

“Since you actually got some.” Mike said with a wry smile.

A middle finger was all the response Mike got from Josh for that.

“Let it go, dude.” Chris replied airily. 

Mike shrugged it off and leaned back against the ample stack of pillows, resting his head upon laced fingers. Why _was_ he picking at it? Other than providing yet another avenue for their back and forths, there was a part of him that was now... genuinely curious?

Chris wasn't sure if it was the beer, the latest line of questioning or the way Mike was watching him that made him miss his next shot, but two bounces later he was down to his sweater.

“Ha!”

“Whatever, J.” Chris cracked his knuckles. “I'm just getting started.”

Josh bent down to pick up the ball then stopped to steady himself on the headboard of Chris' bed. When he stood up, he paused - the movement going straight to his head.

“You okay?” When Josh failed to reply, Chris edged around the table and placed his hand on Josh’s back. “J?”

Josh straightened up and turned to him. Blinking away the headrush, he gave Chris a crooked smile. “M’fine.”

Chris' smile softened, overcome by stirrings of affection and amusement in equal measure. He held Josh by the shoulders and gave him a dubious look.

“I’m _fiiine_.”

“Yeah, you’re a hot mess, Washington.” Chris kissed Josh's forehead. “You wanna call it? No shame in losing to the king of beer pong.”

If Chris was honest, he wasn't faring much better; only marginally more sober than his friends thanks to his initial series of wins. A break wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Quit? Nope. M’fine.” Josh blinked some more. “Well… Maybe...?”

At this, Chris' grin returned, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth for a long moment. Josh was a pretty cute drunk when the mood took him and he didn't even realise it. “I win?”

Josh nodded.

“Say it.”

Josh smiled up at him and laughed, Chris' coaxing tone winning him over. “Fine, you win.”

“ _There_ you go.” Chris held Josh's face in his hands and planted a lingering kiss on his lips, indulging the urge that had crept up on him.

Mike didn’t realise he’d been staring until Chris released Josh and turned to him without even a hint of self-consciousness. It was going to take some getting used to.

“What d’you say? You wanna lose some more?”

“Says the guy who just missed…” Mike couldn't remember how many, so settled on, “...all the shots.”

“Good one.” Chris smirked, strolling to the bed.

“Whatever.”

Chris looked down at the brunette reclining on the bed for a moment. “Move up?”

Giving Mike little time to move much of anything, Chris sat down on the bed, edging Mike’s outstretched legs out of the way before lifting one up to lay it across his lap, leaving the other hanging off the edge of the mattress. The office chair creaked from across the room as Josh sank into it. A moment later, his face was lit by the glow of his laptop while he scrolled through the vast library of music, settling on a track before scrolling some more, distracted by an open browser window.

A short buzz nearby caught Mike’s attention. His phone lit up as it vibrated on the nightstand before the screen went dark. He leaned over and scooped it up in his hand.

A text.

He swiped his passcode and felt the slightest pang of disappointment.

_Not Em._

Instead, it was a garbled message from one of his Brothers: the victim of predictive text gone awry. He was at a party from what Mike could gather. The phone buzzed again in his palm as a second message came through: a rather graphic and thankfully anonymous photo showing Mike exactly what he was missing.

“You okay, dude?”

“Hm?”

Chris was looking at him, subtle traces of concern marring his brow.

“Yeah, fine.” Mike put the phone to one side. “One of my Brothers.”

“Brothers?”

Mike didn’t have any brothers.

“Ah.” It finally clicked. “One of your frat bros.”

“Fraternity,” Mike corrected him, “Yeah.”

“How was it? You were MIA for like, forever.”

“It was only eight weeks.”

It hadn’t been forever, but it had felt like it towards the end. Eight weeks if you included ‘Hell Week’: the cherry on the cake of the whole ordeal. No, not ordeal. He couldn’t think of it like that. Process. Wasn’t that what they’d called it?

Mike had opted to apply early on in the Fall semester, unwilling to be tarred with the ‘Spring Pledge’ brush. A few of the chapters had wooed him and finally he received his bid. Former Class President, decent grades, charismatic and looking to go far - he'd gotten some attention.

Chris whistled. “Eight weeks, huh? That’s rough. I’ve heard stories.”

Eight weeks of pledging later and he'd finally earned his pin - ‘earned’ being the operative word. Forced awake at 3 a.m. and made to take part in rigorous calisthenics; acting as designated driver, beer runner and all round bitch to the Brothers; and all the while keeping up with classes and trying to maintain a long distance relationship were actually the high points of the whole experience. 

“What’s up?” Chris' lips formed a coquettish smile. “Did you get paddled?”

“Ha-ha.”

He'd done plenty of questionable things during that time. Things that had tested his morals and resolve. Hell, things that were downright illegal.

“I can’t talk about it.”

That much was true - he was sworn to secrecy. But would he talk about it if he could? Even if he kind of wanted to? Probably not.

“Come on. Who am I gonna tell? I won’t go blabbing your secrets, scout’s honor.”

Mike looked vaguely irritated in a slow, inebriated kind of way. It only encouraged Chris to press on.

“So, no paddling.” He stroked his chin in an exaggerated show of contemplation. “Worse than a paddling?”

He was met with silence.

“Yes or no?”

“Chris…”

The blond looked at him mischievously from under his lashes. “Definitely worse than a paddling.”

“ _Chris_.”

“Okay, okay. Chillax, Kappa Theta Kappa.” Chris laughed contentedly as he leaned back against the wall, then lazily turned his head to look at Mike again, squeezing his leg. “Congrats, man. I know how much you wanted it.”

“Thanks.” Mike glanced over at his phone again as it lit up, but chose to ignore it. “You didn't think about joining one?”

Chris looked up from where he’d been idly fingering the denim bunched at Mike’s knee. “Ha, no. Can you picture it?”

“It’s not for everyone.”

The room fell into easy silence, and the scrolling of the mouse and the music playing softly from Josh's laptop were the only sounds for a while.

“J?”

“Hmm?” Josh looked up from where he'd been engrossed in the screen.

“Chips?”

A part of their pregaming included snacking under the pretence of being sensible and lining their stomachs, but mainly because chips, right?

The brunette leaned back in his chair, the slow turning of internal cogs visible behind hazy eyes. “Think so?” Josh scanned the room, spinning in the chair until he spotted a likely suspect on Chris' bed. An outstretched arm pinpointed what appeared to be an open family size bag. “There, man.”

The pair looked at each other.

“There.” Josh repeated.

“I've got a Mike on me.” Chris shrugged apologetically and gestured to the leg strung across his lap, receiving a thoroughly unsympathetic look in return. “Please, bro?”

With a sigh, Josh pushed himself up off the arms of the chair then promptly sat back down. “Gimme a minute.”

“Thanks.” The leg on Chris' lap shifted, bringing his attention back to Mike, but the brunette was looking off into space. “Dude?”

No reply.

“Mike?”

Mike snapped out of whatever train of thought had occupied him. A moment later, he was smiling at Chris again, but it seemed forced.

“You wanna… talk?”

Mike shot him a look that suggested he'd rather give beer pong another go, or drink one of those God awful shots Josh had forced upon them. “Really?” He smiled again as he eased himself back against the pillows. “I’m fine. Seriously.”

“Okay...”

Chris considered trying again, but he knew Mike well enough to think better of it. They'd had their heart to hearts before, but nothing really serious ever came up, not from want of trying on Chris' part. It was probably Em, or lack thereof, that was troubling him. Chris had never had to go through a break up, thankfully, but he'd witnessed many. It was part and parcel of high school life and more often than not, Mike had some part to play in it. But he'd never seemed quite so concerned about it before. Chris couldn't really tell what was going on with him. Though Mike tried to play it cool, texts from Sam and Jess suggested the situation was more complicated than what the brunette had played off as a simple matter.

With talking it out the less preferable option, Chris resorted to his usual tack: distraction.

_Let's turn that frown upside down._

“What happened with that girl?”

“Girl?”

“The redhead from the bar? We lost you for a while.”

At the prompt, Mike remembered. There had been a brief interlude when his hosts had been caught up talking to people they knew. Left to his own devices, Mike filled the time the way he knew best. He held out his arm and perused the messy digits scrawled in eyeliner on his wrist before presenting it to Chris for inspection.

Though Chris definitely didn't want to encourage Mike's womanising - if only out of fear of Emily’s wrath - he knew the other guy well enough to see that his ego could use a stroke or two. “Well, there you go. It's not all bad, huh?”

“Wouldn’t be if she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, whaaa?” Chris asked, eyebrows rising with amused disbelief.

“Yeah.” And there it was: that confident smile returning. “Why d’you think I wanted to leave?”

“Dude, I thought it was the music. You bitched about it enough.”

“Nah, that was just a bonus.” Mike’s laughter trailed off to a soft smile as he inspected his arm. “It was nice though, y’know?”

“You’re really that surprised?” Chris asked as he lifted Mike's leg, putting it to one side. With one hand on the brunette’s thigh, he turned on the bed. “I mean, look at you, man.”

And he did look at him for a long moment. A little longer than he should have.

There was no denying that Mike had gotten more than his fair share of the breaks; his good looks ranking up there with his crowd-pleasing charisma. And it was all there on display in the contours of his chest, his lightly tousled hair and the smile that completed the picture despite the slight haziness in his eyes. Everything about him was so effortless.

He watched Mike lick his thumb then rub at the black scrawled numbers, smudging them into a faded grey stain on his wrist. Looking at him, Chris was surprised the guy wasn’t smothered in phone numbers.

“Yeah… Okay, Chris.”

The blond was laying it on pretty thick, but Mike knew he meant well.

“C’mon, I mean it.”

Mike gave Chris a surprisingly humble smile that only further endeared him to the blond. “Sure you do.”

“In fact…”

Mike had only just begun to pay attention to Chris again when he found himself pushed back against the comforter, pinned down by the other man’s weight. “--The hell?”

“Oh, _Michael_...” Chris was on top of him, his eyes alight with exaggerated longing, his tone overly dramatic. “When I said you missed your chance?” The blond leaned in close and looked him dead in the eye, his voice reduced to a loud whisper, “... _I lied_.”

Exploiting the element of surprise, Chris pinned the brunette’s arms to his sides and buried his face in Mike’s neck, planting over-the-top smooches between each obscene groan and hammy declaration while Mike squirmed beneath him. “Mmm, I can't resist you…. Nnh, oh _God_ , talk to me about logistics…”

“ _Fuck_ … Get the hell… _Chris_ … Come on!”

Mike’s protests, weakly made through reluctant laughter, only encouraged the blond. “Mmh… I love how bad you suck at beer pong. Unh, it gets me so _hot_.”

“Get _off!_ ”

The blond’s lips trailed loud, amplified kisses along Mike’s jaw and cheek. “Don't pretend you don't love it, mmmmmmm…”

Chris planted a kiss - more a crushing together of lips than anything tender or romantic - squarely on the other man's mouth then pulled back with a grin, slightly breathless from the struggle and looking pleased with himself.

Mike was laughing, but it tapered off. He knew this play and that look; remembered them pretty clearly considering the circumstances. This - all of this - followed that familiar unspoken pattern of what seemed like a lifetime ago back in high school. Chris was a flirty guy, especially after a few drinks, and they'd definitely had more than a few this time. They'd made out before, more than once if his rather fuggy memory could be relied upon, each time laughing it off as a stupid joke or a dare. But it had never gone anywhere and certainly never meant anything. 

Yeah, he knew that look and where this was going.

“Mike… mmm…” The sounds Chris made against his jaw became considerably less overblown as the seconds went by until Chris wasn’t laughing anymore.

The grip on his arms loosened, but Mike didn’t try to break free of it.

It was probably something very few people knew if the blond's track record was anything to go by, but Chris was actually a pretty good kisser, not that he was demonstrating that particular talent right now. Mike was never going to tell _him_ that, but he couldn't lie to himself about it. It was definitely the drink talking, but in the wake of the reminder, he could kinda see why Josh--

_Josh._

Mike gripped the blond by the shoulders and pushed him far enough away to be out of range of his advances. He'd been in situations like this before (hey man, she came onto _me_ ), but this was a pretty surreal twist on it. 

Seeing the change in Mike's eyes, Chris came to his senses and turned his head.

Josh was standing a few feet away beside the beer pong table with a red cup in one hand and the open bag of chips in the other, watching them blankly.

Chris' tone changed instantly, no longer playful. “J, I didn't-- I was just messing...”

He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but it wasn't coming out right. 

_You fucking dumbass._

This was so familiar - so much like college had never even happened - that he'd fallen into old habits and let himself get carried away; swept up in a good mood when the jibes and jokes were flying back and forth so easily. Maybe it was seeing Mike there, all sharp sarcasm, easy smile, toned and… it had just sort of happened. But a lot of things had changed in his time away from home; his relationship with the man looking down at him the most significant of all. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was fuck that up for the sake of whatever this was.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Chris propped himself up on unsteady elbows, midway through pushing up off the bed. “...J?”

Josh was still standing there, just about steady on his feet, but his shoulders were marked by the slump of inebriation. Chris half-expected him to look pissed off, upset or even just a little annoyed, maybe. But Josh didn't look much of anything.

This was probably bad.

Chris went to get up, but Josh’s raised hand, loosely holding the cup, stilled him. And then, after a moment’s deliberation, in a lazy yet definite movement, Josh rubbed the skin just shy of his hairline with two fingers.

Chris blinked up at him, thrown by the gesture. He… knew this? There was no doubting the state he was in with the mattress feeling less than steady beneath his arms, and it made him doubt himself. Had he seen it properly? With a puzzled look, he cautiously placed his finger on his nose. A beat later, Josh's fingers slid up to the top of his head in response.

“J?”

The blond caught a glimpse of a lopsided smile before it was hidden by the cup as Josh took a drink. A soft nod.

_...What?_

Chris laughed relief and disbelief into the space between himself and a rather baffled Mike before his gaze returned to Josh, still not entirely certain he'd properly understood.

It was an old system, unused for several years and originally devised longer ago still, back in the schoolyard. Simple yet effective, it was a code they'd used if they needed to ask the other's opinion but couldn't talk about it freely in another person's presence. If a question needed to be asked, a sly touch of the nose would do the asking. A subtle touch in reply would indicate the other's true feelings on the matter at hand: a high gesture indicating agreement, a low gesture denoting a negative. ‘The lower the no-er’. Back when Josh wasn't up to communicating or when the sharing of secrets made talking difficult or embarrassing, the code had been there to fall back on. If Josh's gestures were anything to go by… what? What did this mean? Chris thought he might know, but really?

Mike watched the mute exchange with a frown, wondering what the hell were they doing. He felt about five steps behind whatever was going on. “Look, it's nothing. It--” he began defensively.

“It's alright.”

Mike closed one eye and struggled to focus on Chris. “What?”

“It's okay, I think?” Chris half-asked, glancing up at Josh, still not entirely convinced.

Mike looked up at the older man. Josh remained silent and simply stood there assessing the pair with reserved interest. It was becoming unnerving. “What?” Mike repeated. The hell if he knew what was going on.

What was Chris supposed to do with this information? If he was reading Josh right, then…

“ _Really_ , J?” Chris asked again, still half-draped over Mike’s prone body with that same questioning look. Now it felt kind of weird. Kind of awkward.

Josh blinked down at them both.

Was this okay? He was pretty drunk, he had enough self-awareness left to know that much for sure. Would he feel the same about it if he were sober or at some other time? He doubted he’d be so forthcoming with that admission in the cold light of day, but the fact was that he wasn’t sober - not even nearly sober - and this wasn’t some other time, it was now.

How did he feel about this right now?

Josh dropped the bag of chips on the beer pong table and rubbed the back of his neck with his freed up hand before loosely hugging himself with it. He shrugged. “It’s okay, f’you wanna?”

So, he had read it right, and Chris wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. Relieved that he hadn’t messed up, definitely, but he was feeling more than simple relief now.

His gaze returned to the brunette beneath him and Josh’s words played over again in his head. Mike didn’t look concerned or freaked out. Instead, he was looking up at him through slightly hazy eyes with half-formed curiosity parting his lips, as if he was still getting up to speed.

_If I want to?_

Chris felt a pang of guilt as the answer to that question came a little too easily. He definitely did kind of want to.

As the blond regarded him, the exact nature of the unfolding situation very slowly dawned on Mike. 

_What the hell is this?_

It had been a few years since they’d last been in this position, and though the face above his own was the familiar one Mike had always known, Chris had undoubtedly changed. Childish features had given way to mature, attractive lines, and yet Chris' boyish charm remained. Blue eyes peered down at him, seeming to ask the same questions he was struggling with.

_An invitation?_

Chris’ expression softened. He looked different without his glasses. Different and the same all at once.

“...Chris?”

It was initiated in the same old tried and tested way. Throwing Josh a final glance, the blond leaned down and met Mike’s lips, silencing the question with just enough clumsiness for it to be dismissed as a continuation of the joke, should Mike want it to be.

 _Did_ he want it to be? 

It could be laughed off; dismissed; put to one side and blamed on the booze. It didn’t have to happen. And yet the curiosity was there, mixed up along with the way the blond’s body against his own was making him feel, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and the knowledge that though this was an old play, the guy making it had changed since the last time - not quite so innocent or naive anymore. 

Mike’s lips parted and at the first sign of reciprocation, Chris' whole demeanour changed; no longer clumsy dramatics as his weight shifted, body pressing against his own with a little more conviction.

Who was he kidding? He was weak. It worked every single time.

Always had.

\--

_You’re okay with this?_

Josh watched from his vantage point as Chris settled over Mike and it was as if everything suddenly clicked into place, their bodies fitting neatly together, picture perfect. Chris' hand found Mike’s jaw, perhaps more hesitantly than it needed to if either man were honest about it. In turn, Mike moved his leg aside, allowing Chris to edge farther up the bed.

It was hot - ranking high on the list of the hottest things he’d ever seen - and it was happening on his bed. Right now. And all he could do was stand there and stare dumbly.

He supposed he should’ve felt jealous. There was an element of that while he watched Chris giving his attention to someone else, but something was speaking louder than that jealous voice - something primal and unexpected but not at all unwelcome. Besides, it wasn’t like he owned Chris, right? He trusted him completely. And he kinda… liked it? Was that it? Was this something he liked? It wasn’t a situation he’d ever really thought about before. Why would he need to? Even when Chris had only been messing around, oblivious to his curious gaze, Josh had felt the first stirrings of this previously unknown feeling of consent.

Mike held Chris' shoulder, and Josh didn’t miss the way this encouraging touch provoked the subtle unconscious movement of Chris' hips. He drank absently from the cup then licked the beer from his lips, unable to tear his gaze away.

_Yup. You are very much okay with this._

It was something they’d never spoken about - perhaps because maybe Chris hadn’t even realised it himself, not fully - but Josh had observed and noted it. For as far back as he could remember, Chris had always acted a little differently around Mike. When he thought about it now, it reminded him of a diluted version of the way Hannah acted around Mike, or maybe it just manifested itself differently. While his sister’s blatant crush had her blushing and fumbling for words, Chris' was more forthcoming in the form of cheesy innuendo and stolen touches. Maybe Chris knew - it seemed too obvious to miss - but if he did, he’d never admitted it. After all, Michael Munroe was a lady’s man.

Well, not _right_ now.

Josh's fingers curled distractedly under the hem of his shirt, mute lips parting as Mike’s hand slid up beneath Chris' sweater. He swallowed another mouthful of his drink, one hand absently trailing along the waistband of his jeans.

\--

Chris' sweater was soft and warm against his bare chest.

He’d been right: Chris was still a good kisser; not too forceful; taking his time and knowing when to hold back.

Mike lifted his head from the stack of pillows and pulled the blond up against him more firmly, receiving a soft appreciative sound in response.

Okay, so this wasn't the exact picture he’d had in mind when he'd planned a weekend with the guys. He'd hoped for a blond, maybe a brunette pressed up against his junk by the end of the night, sure. Not _this_ particular blond though.

It was just like high school all over again.

He remembered the first time. Sixteen years old - two years in the past but seeming longer ago still. Things were winding down at the end of Rachel Taylor’s house party and Mike found himself alone for once. Though Chris had never exactly been one of the popular kids, he wasn’t _un_ popular. His humour unlocked the doors to the various social circles he flitted between, so he’d blagged an invite, too. He’d found Chris in the pool house horsing around with some of the posers from the drama club. Mike joined them and soon the pair became wrapped up in their own conversation, oblivious to the others as they talked and joked until, before they knew it, they were alone.

He couldn’t remember exactly what Chris had said before the blond kissed him, joking at first until Mike found himself pressed back against the arm of the couch, reciprocating with fumbling hands. Chris was uncertain for a moment in the aftermath before he burst into familiar laughter that put Mike’s mind at ease and brought forth relieved laughter of his own.

_“I’m just messing with you.”_

And that was that. The end of it. At least until the next time Chris had ‘messed with him’. But this didn’t feel like messing around anymore; not with Chris pressed up against his thigh, warm hands and lips working him up despite himself. Not now he knew about Chris and Josh.

Did they do this all the time? Was this their deal: getting drunk and inviting guys back to their room? It wasn't something Mike had figured them for, but he hadn’t thought a lot of things likely the previous morning. If the awkwardness of their exchange moments ago was anything to go by, perhaps this wasn't the status quo for them, either.

Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Josh standing where they’d left him, his eyes raking over them until they met Mike’s gaze. Sensing his distraction, Chris pulled away and looked down at him with the trace of a smile. His hand fell to Mike’s shoulder as he tracked his gaze. 

“J?” With a soft gesture of his head, Chris beckoned him over.

\--

Josh didn’t need to be told twice.

The pair of them looked good like this; all messed up hair and rumpled clothes. It made him wonder how else they might look good; how they'd look without the trappings of jeans and shirts and all the other barriers between their bodies. How they might look if--

“J.” Chris repeated through an amused smile. “Bro.”

Okay, so maybe he did need to be told twice.

Josh dropped the empty cup on the table and approached, his eyes flicking between them before finally settling on Chris. The bedframe voiced its protest as he sat in the small space at the edge of the mattress beside them.

Chris had slipped to the other side of Mike with his back pressed against wall, propping himself up on one arm. Warm blue eyes met his own. Bridging the gap across Mike’s legs, he kissed Josh once then leaned back. “You okay?”

It was so like Chris to ask and the simple question warmed him, dispelling any lingering uncertainty Josh might’ve felt deep down but left unvoiced. The slightest of nods and a smile tinged with unspoken need preceded the hand that firmly yet gently pulled the blond into another kiss that was both possessive and convincing.

\--

With his shoulders pressed against the stack of pillows, Mike could do little more than watch.

So there it was: confirmation of everything he'd heard the night before, up close and right before his eyes - two of his best friends brazenly kissing each like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they'd been doing it for years. Had they? Chris hadn't really elaborated on how long ‘a while’ actually was. Looking down the bed at them, Mike wondered for the briefest of moments if he should move. But, if he admitted it to himself, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

The decision to stay was made for him when Josh steadied himself on his leg, placing his hand just above his knee. A moment later, Mike rested his head on his hands and just… watched.

Okay… so he could kind of get on board with this…? He couldn't lie to himself about the feelings it was stirring up; a potent mix of curiosity and something more - the same feelings he'd experienced the night before, if he let himself acknowledge it. It wasn't like it was something a wayward late night trawl through the seedier parts of the internet hadn't brought up. But it was Chris - the guy who'd made him laugh so hard in junior high he'd turned red choking on his drink - and Josh - the kid who'd helped him study in seventh grade. His friends. Regardless of gender, it was hard to get those facts out of his head.

Josh stifled a noise that blanked out the rest of the tangent Mike's thoughts were travelling down, demanding his attention. The hand on his leg was doing more than resting. Whether consciously or not, Josh was softly kneading his leg through his jeans, like a cat settling into a pillow.

Now he was thinking about it again: the logistics the pair had mocked him about. How did this work? He didn't have enough insight into this world to know how arrangements like this were worked out. He wasn’t naive enough to think that age was necessarily a factor. But then, what? Chris was the larger of the two of them. Did that have something to do with it?

The hand kneading his leg slunk a few inches farther up his thigh and cut his musing short. Another testing squeeze had his body tensing, and he raised his hand to protest, but hesitated. As the seconds passed without objection, Josh's hand covered a few more inches of ground, until it was just shy of his--

_“Whoaheynow.”_

The soft exclamation turned Chris and Josh’s heads towards its source, and Josh quickly retreated to the safety of Mike’s knee, wandering fingers clumsily snatched away like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He went to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words, and Mike saw the vaguely guilty look he wore when he finally met Chris' eye, but the blond seemed more amused by Josh’s reaction than annoyed by the cause of it. 

_“Dude.”_

Chris' amusement triggered something in Josh and had him turning away, a soft gust of laughter escaping him before he and Chris shared a look. “I dunno…” He shrugged.

Chris' smile broadened. “Oh, I think you do.”

His levity not quite subsided, Josh turned to Mike. “Sorry, man. I misread--”

“It's cool.” Mike managed tightly, “It's just, I’m not… I like _girls_.”

Considering that the last person he'd kissed was still sharing a bed with him, the protest carried little weight. Chris gave him a sceptical look then chuckled. “Yeah, me too. So does my boyfriend.”

Mike couldn't help laughing at that, if a bit nervously, but he couldn't quite bring himself to relax entirely.

“You’ve never even thought about it?”

Chris' question was vague, but Mike thought he knew what he meant. “Well, yeah, but...”

The reply came a little too quickly - no fake deliberation or faux protest dragging it out - but Mike was holding back, too, though he wasn’t entirely aware of it. He’d thought about what it might be like to be with a guy, but it was impossible not to when he’d crossed that line before. _They_ didn’t know that, and as long as he had a say in it, they never would.

It took Chris a few attempts to prop himself up more firmly on his elbow. “Well, s’like I said. You like what you like, right? Sometimes it's not so black and white, you know?” He shrugged and glanced at Josh. “I mean, _I_ like girls, but look at that face. How can I say no to that?”

The face in question looked down and Josh's lips formed a strangely self-conscious smile for someone who was pretty far gone. “Come on, man.” Eventually Josh lifted his gaze to the silence that had opened up.

Yes, Mike liked to think he was good at reading people, but perhaps that skill wasn't quite so sharp with this much booze in him. Josh was difficult to get a handle on at the best of times and now was no different. Meanwhile, Chris had defaulted to the smile that often graced his lips, but there was something more behind it. 

“I’m not, like, asking you to marry me, dude. This is just…” It seemed that Chris didn’t know exactly how to finish that sentence. He trailed off into a shrug and yet another spell of chuckling. “The hell if I know.”

“Bro, I...” Josh blinked and smiled through soft laughter. “I dunno…”

Their confused mirth was contagious and with a shrug of his own, Mike joined them. He didn’t know, either, he really didn't. This wasn't how he saw the night going at all. It was--

“S’weird, right?” Josh voiced Mike's unspoken sentiments in the wake of shared laughter.

It _was_ weird. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad kind of weird. A good weird? Was that a thing? Either way, it did little to cool Mike off.

“It doesn't have to be weird.”

The words were spoken softly. Chris wasn't laughing or joking quite so much anymore. In fact, he almost sounded serious.

“...Yeah?”

Chris nodded and unconsciously sought out Josh's arm in the space between them, rubbing idle circles on the back of his boyfriend’s hand with his thumb.

Mike wasn't a prude. In the years since he'd taken his first steps into the world of adulthood, he’d seen and done a lot of things - definitely more than his fair share - and he'd happily include most of his encounters in his obituary. He wasn’t shy about it. 

_Michael Munroe: He screwed around a lot._

However, there were some stories he wasn't quite so forthcoming with when conversation took that turn. Petey D’s older sister had been one for the books, not that he’d ever let Petey find out about it. The s’mores incident with that junior counsellor at camp ‘12? Yeah, that was a bit _too_ different. Hell, that thing that happened in the locker room after soccer practice with that douchebag Jesse Mendez that they totally weren't ever going to talk about _ever_? That had been _really_ awkward. What about the last week of--

_Forget it. Doesn't count._

...But this? It was crossing a line he hadn't even considered before. Chris and Josh: two guys he'd known since sixth grade and the night going God knows where. It was nothing short of surreal.

Was it such a bad thing, though? It wasn’t like they were judging him. Was that what this was about? Appearances? Out in the real world, his meticulously maintained image was everything. But there were no classmates to vote for him now; no Brothers to impress; no girls to win over. Behind the closed door of this messy little dorm room, he didn’t have to prove much of anything to anyone.

The pair were watching him with interest, and though neither said a word, their expectant silence spoke volumes. 

“...I don't wanna step on any toes.”

He was the outsider. Despite the booze, he was acutely aware that he was in prime position to piss off one or both of his friends. He'd dealt with the jealousy these scenarios could create and was reluctant to deal with _that_ mess again. There were a lot of feelings that could get hurt.

Wait. Did that mean he was actually considering it? It sounded a bit like he was.

“Anyone says stop and we stop. No hard feelings.” Chris’ words were overly casual as his gaze followed the path his fingers had begun to make along Mike's side. He flashed an inviting smile, made loose and easy by the drink, then shrugged. “It’s just messing around.” And then that same smile turned hungry, the corners of his mouth twitching up to match the suggestion in his eyes. “Just some guys… you know. Getting off.”

But hard feelings were exactly the problem for Mike and his two bed mates if the want lingering in their eyes was anything to go by.

“J?”

There it was again: that look in Josh's eyes that made the slight nod he gave in response redundant.

“Michael?” His name was said by the blond with no small amount of relish.

He'd never thought about either of them like this before - not seriously, anyway - but he'd had worse propositions. Propositions that hadn't looked at him the way the two men were right then; like they wanted to eat him up but were trying to decide where to start.

How long had it been since he'd been with anyone? Five weeks, maybe? Well, that was when he and Em had last… but what about the other thing? Did that count? The Greek sweater on the floor certainly suggested it did.

With Chris' fingers trailing temptingly along his side and Josh’s body a warm weight against his leg, Mike’s body made the decision for him, following one of the less healthy adages he lived by.

_A lay’s a lay, right?_

Sometimes it was better not to talk too much and let your actions speak for you instead. With that in mind, his hand slid up Chris' arm from wrist to elbow and, with a firm tug, Mike pulled him closer. “Nothing leaves this room.”

Surprised, the movement jolted loose the confident edge from Chris' voice. “Yeah… yeah, you got it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chris needed little more encouragement than that to clamber ungracefully over Mike’s legs, catching a glimpse of his own feelings reflected in the other man's eyes before he leaned into a kiss, eager to do so before Mike changed his mind. But as Mike's hands slipped around his waist, it didn't seem like that was going to be a problem. 

It was sort of surreal having Mike holding him like this. Though he’d been the one to suggest it, Chris still couldn’t quite believe it was actually happening. Sure, it had happened before, but it had never meant anything because it simply hadn’t seemed like a real option - their past dalliances the result of too many drinks and Chris pushing his luck. They weren’t sober now either, but this time felt different; like more than wishful thinking.

He’d fully expected his words to fall on deaf ears and for Mike or Josh, maybe both, to shoot him down. He’d already been planning how to save face, bracing himself for the inevitable knock-back, but it never came.

Holding their consent to his chest, there were no more excuses to give; no more shrugging it off as something he didn’t really want or mean. There was no doubting that had they been sober things might not have gotten this far, but he didn’t feel alone in this anymore. Knowing that they were at least reading from the same page went some way toward putting his mind at ease.

Soft lips pressed against his own, parting of their own accord. Chris mirrored the movement and was rewarded with a fleeting flicker of tongue that made his breath catch.

This guy… He hadn't thought about Mike like this in a while, but probably more recently than he'd readily admit. There was something about Mike that drew Chris to him: a natural magnetism that pulled him willingly into his orbit. Sure, Mike was hot as all hell - that was a big factor - but perhaps it was the self-assured air he exuded that had Chris seeking out his attention and left him quietly pleased with himself whenever Mike gave him a moment of his time. He was unattainable. Well, maybe not in the opinion of the small army of girls he’d worked his way through, but to Chris he had been. Class President. Mr Popular. And somehow here he was plundering his mouth while Mike got hard beneath him, and Chris couldn’t help feeling just a little bit smug about that.

He felt another hand join Mike's on his back, creeping under the layers of sweater and t-shirt to smooth warm and clumsy over his skin.

His boyfriend was a different matter altogether. Smart and funny. Unconventionally good-looking. Loving and complex. Awkward and just a little bit broken, but in all the right places. Rare and so very, very special. His feelings for Josh ran deep, only growing stronger as time went on if that was possible. He'd liked him for a long time before that lazy Sunday afternoon changed everything, whether he’d fully known it or not, and for some inexplicable reason, Josh liked him too. Loved him. They had a bond, like brothers.

No, not like that. That was a really weird thing to think right now. Something _like_ that.

And somehow both guys were here sharing a bed with him. Chris didn't know exactly how all this had happened, but he was pretty fucking stoked about it.

The thought only fuelled the confidence he’d gained through recent experience - earned within these very same walls with a different brunette - and he slowly ground himself against the man beneath him, letting Mike feel the full weight of his need as sweet friction stoked the ache that had made itself at home between them.

In the past, Chris might've left it at this - content to stake claim to Mike's lips and feel him up close - sated by proximity alone. But not now. Crossing that meagre boundary didn't feel like enough anymore. He wasn't sure how far this was going, but with Mike holding him close and Josh's hand wandering eagerly over his body, he felt bolder and raised himself up just enough to slip his hand between them and run his palm over flat stomach down to stiff denim, liking what he found. Breaking the kiss with a breathless smile, Chris pulled back to see Mike peering up at him through lidded eyes. Encouraged, Chris touched him more firmly, palm and fingers caressing him through his jeans, and watched Mike’s reaction until the brunette abruptly pulled him into another kiss.

\--

It was even better this close up, Josh decided.

For a long while he simply watched them through the fug of alcohol, taking it all in while Chris picked up where he’d left off.

Did he want another beer? He felt like kicking back and watching this play out, but as he blinked away the room spin, he knew that was a bad idea. Besides, he didn’t want to miss anything. 

He ran his hand over Mike’s where it held Chris against him, fingers splayed in blond hair, and watched, need flaring as Chris shifted his hips, coaxing a sound from Mike that was muffled by the blond’s eager lips upon his own.

Was getting his phone out too much? He felt like it might not be appreciated by the intended subjects of a spur of the moment photoshoot, but damn, he really didn’t want to forget any of this.

Josh’s hand smoothed along Chris' shoulder, down over the curve of his backside. His grip tightened just a touch as he chewed his lip, murmuring, “Man, you guys are fucking pretty.”

That was a massive understatement. The sight of Chris grinding up against Mike and groping him through his clothes was doing terrible things to him; working him up so much that he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

As Chris' hand slipped between their bodies, Josh mirrored its path across his own. Though his eyes weren’t cooperating with him quite as much as he’d like, at least _something_ was working.

A moment’s hesitation.

_Nah, this is... this... s’fine._

\--

Okay, so Chris definitely had more than just making out in mind.

_But you already kinda knew that, right? Where exactly did you think this was going?_

Despite that acknowledgement, Mike still somehow found it unexpected.

_When did Chris become so…_

_...Hot? Is that what you're thinking? Seriously?_

It was probably right around the same time Chris had first peered down at him, his eyes alight with the promise of something more than a joke gone too far in mind. Or maybe it was when Chris started slowly fucking him through his clothes, that could've been it. Either way, Mike couldn’t deny the way his body was reacting; hips lifting up just enough to meet Chris' advances, moving on instinct, his body seeking out the blond's touch of its own accord. But it was more than simple physical prompting that was getting his blood up. What turned him on was Chris' confidence. He liked being with someone who wasn't afraid to go ahead and act on whatever it was they were feeling. Girls so often talked a big game then faltered when it was time to put their money where their mouth was. Sure, it might've been Dutch courage in Chris' case, but the same could most definitely be said for him, too. It was one of the things he liked about Em.

_Nope. Not the time for this._

_She can't find out about--_

_Stop thinking. Just. Stop._

With Chris' mouth trailing to his jaw, that simple instruction proved easy to follow, and tension accompanied the words the blond murmured against his neck. “Want you so bad right now.”

At his confession, any thoughts of Emily fell by the wayside. “Oh yeah?” he asked, not quite as cooly as he'd liked, unconsciously pressing his legs against Chris' sides.

A breathy chuckle warmed his cheek and a fumbling hand pulled one leg close. “Yeah, bro. Big time.”

And then Chris was gone, pushing himself up off the mattress to sit back on his heels between Mike's legs while he dealt with his sweater, edging it up over his head. But Mike wasn’t left alone for long.

As their eyes met, Josh's fingers stroked small, greedy shapes along his arm. With Mike distracted by Chris' words, Josh filled the brief silence for him. “You guys… you...” he trailed off into a loose smile while he took in the sight of Mike's body, his gaze eventually settling on his chest.

Mike was in no position to judge, but Josh looked pretty far gone; enough so that if the tables were turned, he might’ve worried about taking advantage. 

The hand on his arm travelled to his chest and clawed gently at his skin, blunt nails garnering Mike's attention before Josh pressed it flat against him to appreciatively trace the lines of his body.

No. Right then it didn’t feel like Josh was the one being taken advantage of.

“You're hot.” Josh’s words were slightly slurred but still coherent enough for Mike to understand as he edged closer. His lips formed a knowing smile. “But you already know that.” 

He did know, he wasn't stupid, but Mike also knew better than to brag. Though he'd never admit it, he liked being looked at this way and wanted like this. Granted, everyone liked that, but hearing it said so plainly was doing wonders for his mood, especially coming from such unexpected sources. He found himself matching Josh's smile, feeling glad for the pillows beneath him as his head swam a little. “Well....” He shrugged. “F’you say so.”

“I do.” Josh replied matter-of-factly, smiling broadly before chewing his lip some more. His hand trailed down Mike's arm and he paused to frown thoughtfully. “Can I kiss you, man?”

Mike blinked at the question. It was strange to be asked and even stranger being asked by Josh of all people. The thoughtful look became a smile and a ghost of laughter, as if Josh was reacting to a joke nobody had told. 

If Chris had changed, it counted double for Josh. He’d caught a glimpse of it when they’d been getting ready for the night ahead, but it was only then that Mike saw it quite so clearly. Though he easily considered the older man a friend, there had always been an unspoken distance between them; one that Josh seemed to have with most people, even those in their inner circle. Without that barrier it was easier to appreciate the appealing line of his jaw and the allure of dark features that were in turn regarding him so closely. He’d never looked at Josh - _really_ looked at him - in this way before. He’d never considered he might need to.

Green eyes blinked at him through dark lashes - bright and surprisingly persuasive.

Chris had been an easy decision to make - it was familiar and he sort of knew where he stood - but Josh was still somewhat a mystery. It was weird seeing this side of him, like meeting a completely different person.

_A person who's hard just looking at you._

Right then he could actually take control of this; control he'd been so lacking in for the past few months. It didn't have to be something that was happening to him, it could be something he was making happen. Wasn't that what he was used to, what he wanted?

With that in mind, Mike lifted his head from the pillows. Sliding his fingers through short brown hair, he answered the question by closing the gap between them, meeting Josh’s lips with freshly summoned confidence. Despite making the request, Josh was caught off guard, but the initial surprise quickly wore off and soon he was reciprocating with restrained enthusiasm, Mike’s tongue softly sliding against his own as he steadied himself on his shoulder.

Kissing Josh was decidedly different: the flipside of this particular coin. What he perhaps lacked in finesse could be chalked up to the unsteady way he held himself - a victim of one drink too many - but while Chris was almost considered in his approach, Josh more than made up for the oversight with an eagerness that let Mike know exactly where he stood and left no doubt in his mind what he wanted.

\--

After a few tugs, Chris' sweater fell to the floor, but when he went to return to Mike he found him preoccupied. Josh was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over to meet Mike's lips while he ran his hand along his side.

You _don't waste any time._

It was strange seeing Josh like this - looking in from the outside while he kissed someone else, his eyes closed while his jaw moved, his mouth slow but hungry. He briefly wondered if that was how Josh looked when _they_ kissed. It was so familiar he could almost taste him.

Chris stroked his way from Josh's shoulder down to his lower back, and his mouth twitched into a smile as he felt his boyfriend respond, arching back unconsciously against his hand.

Though he should have been used to Josh's capricious nature after years of friendship, he could still surprise Chris with his fickle moods. Days could go by with little more than a sidelong glance, a kiss or the slightest of physical interactions passing between them - the pair happy to just be, content in each other's company. It wasn’t from lack of affection, but simply because anything more didn't happen, or rather it didn't need to happen. And then there were times when things ramped up a gear or two entirely and Chris never even saw it coming. 

Not even a fortnight had passed since they’d walked to college together on one of the few occasions their timetables synced up. Bleary-eyed and still tasting the toothpaste, they'd been talking about God knows what and Chris managed to elicit one of those beautiful, broad smiles from his companion; the kind that lit up the other man’s face in a way that was utterly contagious and warmed Chris' heart despite the cold biting his cheeks. When it came time to part ways in the snow-dusted quad, Josh leaned in for a hug - that was pretty standard behaviour - but he’d lingered, his lips close to Chris' ear, hot breath warming chilled skin.

 _“I’m gonna bone you_ stupid _after class.”_

The matter-of-fact statement was sealed with a squeeze of the shoulders, followed by a fleeting smile, a flash of dark eyes, and then he was going before Chris had time to process what he'd heard. Josh was a good five paces away before Chris finally thought to call after his retreating back, receiving a raised hand and a casual “Later, bro.” in reply, along with the sight of Josh hitching up his backpack as he walked away, his stride unbroken.

It was the longest two hours of his life.

The lecture passed with agonising slowness, interspersed with texts back and forth that were definitely reason enough for Chris to shield his phone from prying eyes. True to Josh's word, Chris was a good deal stupider for the subsequent afternoon spent in their room; the entire lecture forgotten. In his defense, Chris had learned a _hell_ of a lot. Sure, none of it was going to help his GPA, but still...

Yes, there were a lot of layers to Josh Washington - positive, surprising layers that had lain dormant or hidden for a long time - more of them coming to light as days went by, revealing themselves in little glimpses when least expected. Josh was… complex.

Layers. Why was he wearing so many layers? His clothes felt like a hindrance, making Chris belatedly wish he’d had the foresight to lose a few more rounds of beer pong.

A brief moment of deliberation had Chris fumbling with his belt before he thought better of it and focused his attention on the man beneath him instead. Surprisingly deft fingers made short work of Mike's fly, and the act was enough to get the attention of the two brunettes. He edged the zipper down a little farther and left his fingers to hover there. “I didn't hear you say stop.”

Mike’s arm hung loosely over Josh’s shoulders, but in their current state it was difficult to tell who was supporting who. A cursory downward glance at Chris' hands was all the acknowledgement Mike gave before he met the blond’s eyes once more. “‘Cause I didn’t.”

And there it was; the hint of defiance in his tone and the challenge in his eyes that had Mike looking like his old self; the one who batted away everything Chris threw at him and had made the blond let his guard down in the first place. The Mike he'd always sort of imagined in this position.

Mike paused long enough to witness the hint of surprise on Chris' face, his lips forming a satisfied smile before he turned away to reclaim Josh's mouth, and Josh didn't protest - a willing victim of the goading movement.

While it could have been interpreted as a snub, Chris thought he knew better.

_He didn't say stop._

Not a snub. A dare.

\--

Josh's mouth wasn't working quite how he wanted it to. He felt like he was moving too slowly - like his body was a bit too loose, the movements of his lips and tongue lethargic - but it didn't seem to matter. It certainly wasn't putting Mike off.

_Man, you’re so drunk._

Yep, that was true, but he felt like he was in a good place with it. The thought might've ripped laughter from him if his mouth wasn't otherwise engaged.

He wasn't sure what prompted him to ask Mike in the first place. Curiosity, perhaps? The truth was that the number of people he'd kissed could be counted on one hand. Adding another to that small club had seemed tempting, and luckily Mike was happy to oblige. 

A hand on his leg dispelled any brewing desire to laugh until it died completely, replaced by a need he hadn’t even known existed till then.

Damn, he was hard. He felt too warm and distant despite their closeness, but he wasn't complaining. Not one little bit.

“J?”

His eyes fluttered open. He knew that tone - the one reserved for the private moments within these walls, beneath the mess of sheets and blankets - and it had him turning without hesitation. Chris had moved up the bed: his knees on either side of Mike's leg as he leaned in close enough for Josh to feel his breath against his cheek. “Huh?”

But Chris didn't need to say more. A warm hand guided Josh, turning his head to meet warmer lips that claimed his own without protest, coaxing a soft agreeable hum of consent from him. Steadying himself on Mike's shoulder, Josh gripped a loose handful of Chris’ t-shirt in one hand.

Fuck, he wanted him.

_Who?_

_Chris. Mike. Both, I guess?_

The thought pressed his lips more firmly against Chris' and tightened his grip. He was in a _really_ good place with it.

“Mmh…”

It took Josh a few seconds to notice he hadn't made the sound and a couple more to realise Chris hadn't either. With mere inches between them, Josh half-opened his eyes. 

Mike was watching them, tension marking the skin between his eyebrows, his mouth slightly open as he exhaled. Still holding Mike by the shoulder, Josh watched his eyes close and, glancing down the bed, it suddenly made sense. He'd been so caught up in the moment - lost to everything except the warmth of Chris' mouth - that the exact whereabouts of his boyfriend’s hand had gone unnoticed. Now he watched, hypnotised by the slow, deliberate motion of the fingers curled around the material of Mike's underwear. 

It was only when Mike pressed his head back against the pillows and his shoulder shifted against Josh’s hand that Josh snapped out of it. Mike’s eyes were open now, but he was no longer focused on the two of them, his gaze following that very same path down the bed to Chris' busy hand.

“This okay?”

The words were spoken softly against the curve of Josh’s ear, and Chris' breath sent a shiver down his spine. The blond’s voice suggested concern, speaking in that familiar tone that Josh knew all too well: the one that had guided them from the very beginning to this place right here, right now, a world away from the days of grazed knees and secret codes. But there was no disguising the urgent undertone that coloured the question. Josh knew this new voice, too, and had quickly learned what it did to him.

Feeling bold, he nipped Chris' bottom lip, but received only a small exhale through pursed lips in reply. Murmuring against Chris' mouth, Josh closed his eyes, “Stop asking.”

Hungry lips parted, spurred on by his consent, till Josh forced himself to pull away. A gesture of his head in Mike’s direction was enough to say what he wanted. Planting one last kiss on his lips, Chris left Josh to look on as he returned to Mike. 

\--

The thought that someone might call it quits hadn't quite left him, but now Mike knew better. Lying there watching the pair had gone some way towards him reaching a moment of clarity that cut through the hazy half-formed thoughts and feelings governing his actions so far. Throw Chris' hand into the mix and there was no doubting what he wanted anymore.

He shifted over towards the edge of the bed, giving Chris room to slip in beside him against the wall. Chris turned to him with a wordless grin, meeting his lips as his hand returned beneath unzipped denim.

For a long while, he lost himself to the delicious friction of need being met and the unfamiliar feeling of Chris' skin as his hand idly slid beneath the blond’s t-shirt, ghosting over his side. With Chris' mouth on his own, the blond’s hand stilled just long enough to slip beneath his underwear into the inviting warmth between his legs, and the sensation of Chris' fingers on his bare skin had Mike turning farther onto his side, pulling Chris closer and kissing him harder.

Hot and hard in Chris' hand, there was no hiding it anymore: this was something he wanted. Luckily it seemed the feeling was mutual.

“Bet you didn’t think we’d be doing _this_ in high school.”

Chris was watching him from across the pillow. Usually such a comment would be delivered in a playful tone that begged for a comeback; the kind the pair thrived on. There was a hint of that there in bright blue eyes, but it had softened; diluted by the flush of Chris' cheeks.

“ _Hell_ no.” he managed finally, eyes closing.

“Hah…” Any intended mocking edge was stripped away by circumstance, leaving Chris' reply more sound than word.

Chris was doing it, even now. The pair were forever throwing little jabs at each other - verbal sparring partners for years till they’d gotten it down to a fine art. Always gloves on, nothing deep or wounding, but enough to get a rise from the other. They weren’t really in competition, but there was no denying that they both relished having something over the other; an unspoken one-upmanship peppering their interactions. Mike was very aware that he was losing this particular round - Chris undoubtedly had the upper hand.

_Christ, I can hear the puns already..._

But with Chris getting him that little bit closer, it didn’t feel like he was losing. He’d let him have this one. Hell, he could have two or three if it meant he didn’t stop.

Chris' lips trailed to the corner of his mouth and the pace of his hand quickened just a touch. “M’not usually a lefty, so...”

“It’s good… S’all good.”

A breathless chuckle tickled his cheek. “Good.”

It was becoming difficult to pinpoint exactly what his reservations had been as time went on. Well, there were the obvious ones, like--

_Drop it._

The time for thinking things through had passed. Besides, what had Chris said this was?

_Just some guys getting off._

That sounded about right.

He didn’t know if it was selfish desire or genuine benevolence that had him groping Chris through his clothes, going some way to matching the blond’s generous touch, but there was no hesitation there anymore. After all, this wasn’t so different to the times he’d stroked his way up a soft thigh to slip his hand beneath a dress or skirt. 

Though there were still layers of clothing between them, they did little to disguise the blond’s reaction; hard and surprisingly patient against his palm.

Knowing that touching Chris was doing that to him; that he was turning him on without even trying…

He wanted more than this.

When Chris stopped to deal with his own belt and jeans, edging them down far enough to free himself from his shorts, it seemed Mike wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Mike paused, eyebrows rising almost imperceptibly.

_It’s not a contest._

No it wasn’t, and he was pretty glad about that.

Chris didn’t seem to notice, too busy taking in the view, and when the blond began to work them both in his hand, Mike followed his gaze. The sight of them rubbing against each other - skin on skin, sliding through Chris' grip, thumb smoothing over aching need - was enough to force Mike’s eyes closed.

_Fuck._

He realised belatedly that not only had he thought it, but he’d said it too, that was if the satisfaction and need colouring Chris' cheeks was anything to go by before the blond kissed him again, more urgently this time.

\--

Mike's hand closed around his own and slowed the pace, coaxing an involuntary moan from him, made against Mike’s parted lips.

Chris was no stranger to this. There was definitely something to be said for it - that level footing and mutual need. It was definitely his deal. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to keep his cool and crack the jokes that made light of what they were doing. The smug feeling that had emboldened him was rapidly leaving his arsenal, confident pretence falling away. Now that Mike had taken the reins, there was little room for bullshit back and forths anymore. 

The brunette guided Chris’ fingers away from his self-gratification then took him in his palm before kissing him again, more assertively this time, making it clear exactly who was calling the shots.

Chris was on the back foot now. He’d wanted this, asked for it in his own vague way. Now that he was actually getting it, he was totally unprepared. Somehow he’d never been more sure and unsure of himself at the same time.

“Nothin’ clever to say?”

Chris flushed. Mike’s words didn’t have quite the same edge to them as they normally might, but they still managed to add to the pent up ache he was finally tending to. With Mike stroking him, fingers firm and confident, all Chris could manage was a dumbly mumbled exhale.

No. Right then he couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say.

Not quite trusting himself not to blurt out something stupid, Chris pressed his cheek to the pillow and sought out Mike’s neck, mouthing kisses against heated skin as Mike’s breath quickened, gusting over his ear. The thought of ending it there against the toned muscles of Mike’s chest and stomach had him sucking at the skin against his lips, his body tensing.

A tilt of Mike’s head dislodged Chris from where he'd been unconsciously working at hickey. Releasing Chris from his grip, Mike’s fingers slid up through blond hair before slipping down to push firmly against Chris' shoulder. He opened his eyes when Mike did it again, the small yet insistent touch enough to get his attention. Coupled with the brunette’s shuttered eyes and soft panting, loud in the small room, it left little room for misinterpretation. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

Chris didn't know the full range of what he liked. He was still figuring himself out, bit by bit. But he’d learned something about himself pretty early on in his adolescence and had it confirmed when his relationship with Josh became more physical. He was a giver: more at home giving pleasure than receiving it. He thought back to the first time anything more than kisses had been traded with Josh - the culmination of pent-up hormonal curiosity that had more than been reciprocated. Knowing that J was having a good time; seeing him like that and knowing that he was the one causing his body to react that way; that he was responsible for the urgent moans and tense muscles... He was worked up just thinking about it.

Mike rolled over onto his back, parting his legs enough for Chris to settle between them. Bending his knees, he lifted himself up just enough to allow the blond to tug at his jeans and underwear, easing them down his thighs to reveal faded tan lines gained from sunnier days miles away.

Chris paused when Mike slipped his hands behind his head and looked up at him expectantly. 

_“Damn…”_

He looked good spread out on the bed and pillows, like some kind of billboard model - the kind you’d find on a poster stuck to the back of a bedroom door or hanging over a teenage girl’s bed. That was if you ignored the brunette from the waist down, and right then Chris was finding that impossible to do. He was perfect even without the aid of Photoshop airbrushing. Kiss-bruised lips, hair slightly tousled, his navel a tempting half-moon on his flat stomach. It didn’t really seem fair.

If Chris hadn’t been drunk, he might’ve felt nervous. He could sort of sense it on the periphery of his thoughts, but refused to fully acknowledge it. After all, if Mike’s track record was even a little bit truthful, he wouldn’t be the first person to do this. But one thought stuck with him: Mike was letting him do it. Correction, he was _asking_ him to, and that difference went straight to the ache between his legs, giving him more than enough reason to push past any unease.

He leaned down and held Mike in his hand as his other spread out across Mike’s hip. With an upward glance, Chris wet his lips.

Maybe it was the drink catching up with him, but he was struggling to remember what he usually did in this position. What did Josh like? He’d never had any complaints. Hell, what did _he_ like? Surely that was enough to help him figure it out. For a moment his mind went blank, but he quickly recovered. Starting slow and shallow, Chris tested the waters till muscle memory kicked in and guided his mouth.

He heard a hissed inhale from farther up the bed as Mike’s fingers curled loosely around his wrist. A slow sweep of his tongue later and Mike’s grip tightened reassuringly.

“Nnhyeah…”

Hitting his stride, Chris wondered why he’d been flustered - he knew this. Then again, he hadn’t ever expected to have his long time crush hard and eager in his mouth while he clawed at the sheets, softly panting and mumbling his approval.

Cupping Mike in the palm of his free hand, he licked a slow upward trail from base to tip before he took him in deep; wet lips meeting his fingers.

“ _Man_ …” Mike’s fingers tightened momentarily, tugging at his scalp before smoothing almost apologetically through his hair. With a satisfied hum, Chris did it again.

Thinking about it, Chris couldn’t figure out why he’d been flustered at all.

_It's not rocket science._

Besides, he'd wanted to do it since he was fifteen.

\--

Josh had been wrong. _Really_ wrong. _This_ was just about the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

He’d moved soon after Chris had rejoined Mike to give the pair more room and, more importantly, to get a better view. Standing at the head of the bed, steadying himself on the headboard, he watched them over Mike’s shoulder, utterly transfixed.

The rise and fall of Mike’s chest - muscles taut perfection in the warm light of the dorm room - was second only to the scene beyond it. Seeing Chris bent over like that was making him want to head right on over there, help Chris out of his jeans and get involved in a _big_ way. But with the room still not quite as steady around him as he’d like, standing still was challenge enough. Besides, living vicariously through them both - already knowing how it felt but watching someone else experience it - was better than it sounded on the face of things. Sort of painful, but in a good way, if that was possible? Teasing bordering on torturous, muted by the alcohol coursing through his veins. It was need denied, but over previous months, Josh had come to realise that he almost kind of liked that, within reason. With Chris as generous as he was, Josh was often the one to force Chris to stop or slow down so he could ride the wave of it for a while longer until it was too much for either of them to handle anymore.

A smile accompanied Josh’s breathy sound of amusement when Mike ran his fingers through messy blond hair.

Chris wasn’t vain. He cared about how he looked, sure, but he wasn’t one to preen for hours on end. However, that rule didn’t strictly apply when it came to his hair. There were very few times Chris didn’t mind his hair being mussed up - often lamenting hat hair and fussing with it irritably after being caught in unexpected snow flurries - but this was one of the few exceptions. At times like this it was _totally_ okay.

Should he say something? Did he _want_ to say something?

He was confusing himself.

_Don’t worry about it._

With far less modesty than he’d normally display, Josh unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly. Slipping his fingers beneath the denim, he gave into the lure of slow, self-indulgent strokes and touches within his jeans. 

_Don't mind me..._

\--

This was a first. Not the act itself, but it was certainly the first time a guy had been on the receiving end of it. And as it turned out, it wasn't that different after all. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe it was easier when you knew what you liked yourself, knowing the mind of a guy--

_Jesus. Seriously, stop overthinking it and enjoy yourself, okay?_

Lying back against the pillows, Mike’s thoughts returned to the blond. The boy knew what he was doing, he could vouch for that. Chris had a smart mouth - he was forever talking, always quick with a reply - but it seemed Mike had found a glorious way to actually shut him up for once. Himself on the other hand…

Mike closed his mouth, determined to bite his tongue as Chris wiped away the slight smirk gracing his lips. Holding Chris by the shoulder, he gently rocked past soft lips into warm, wet heat, but the movement was stilled by a firm hand holding him in place and the thumb pressing into the muscle above his hipbone.

“S’good, right?”

The voice seemed to come from somewhere far away and it took Mike a few seconds to place it. The bed frame creaked as Josh sat down beside him in the small space on the edge of the mattress, facing him. “You like that?”

It was pretty difficult for Mike to concentrate on what Josh was saying while his boyfriend was going down on him, the older man watching it play out like it was nothing. Well, not _nothing_. There was no mistaking the way Josh was looking at him - pretty much fucking him with his eyes.

_It’s not like you haven’t had an audience before._

Still, it was strange, and yet there was something about it that had him unconsciously straining against Chris' hold on his hip. Belatedly, he heard the question. “ _Fuh_ …” The slightest gust of something akin to laughter escaped him, followed by a lopsided shrug. How the hell were you supposed to answer a question like that? “Yeah, I mean…”

He looked down the bed and glimpsed a flash of blue eyes looking back at him before they closed once more. Though fleeting, that little upward glance still had him pressing against the hand on his hip.

“You wanna know something?” Josh shifted beside him and leaned closer, managing to garner Mike’s attention with proximity and sultry gaze. “I’m better.”

Mike didn't know if he was joking, but it only fuelled the ache between his legs as his thoughts returned to the night before; to Chris' ragged breathing; vague shapes in the close dark; and the muted, wet sounds of a busy mouth.

Josh’s deadpan expression held for a few seconds before it cracked and gave way to soft laughter. If Chris heard the claim, he didn’t react, or at least he certainly didn’t stop what he was doing.

“I'm joking. Maybe? I don’t-- how would I even…” Josh trailed off and turned to Chris distractedly, hand smoothing a path along his shoulder. “How would I know that?” The murmured question preceded another bout of breathy laughter. 

Regardless of Josh’s dismissal, Mike couldn’t quite banish the notion altogether. The thought of suggesting that he could be the judge tickled temptingly at the back of his mind, but it seemed that Josh had other ideas.

Leaning back, Josh lifted himself up enough to ease his jeans down a little farther before those hazy, persuasive eyes returned Mike’s gaze. “You wanna... help me out here?”

It didn’t take a genius to work out what Josh was asking; laughter and amusement replaced by heavy-lidded desire. And he did - with Josh looking at him like that and Chris between his legs, he actually wanted to.

Green eyes closed as Mike worked Josh knowingly in his palm. He watched the rise and fall of the older man’s chest beneath his shirt; witnessed the way the act utterly disarmed him and slackened his jaw with no small amount of satisfaction.

His head swam as Chris hummed around him. He closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows, only aware of the sensation of the blond’s mouth, the hard curve of Josh in his hand and the older man’s inquisitive fingers on his chest. All other thoughts fell away for a while until the hand running appreciatively over his chest was gone, replaced by the bed creaking and the absence of warmth beside him. Mike opened his eyes.

Josh had gotten to his feet. Though his head was cocked lazily, he seemed steadier than before. Standing over Mike with one thumb hooked into the waistband of unfastened jeans, he cut a surprisingly imposing figure. He wasn’t asking this time - not with words - but the question was there, speaking louder than any poorly strung together sentence ever could. It was present in the quirked eyebrow; behind dark green eyes; beneath the fingertips stroking a path down his abdomen, slow and deliberate across his own skin - loud and silent all at once. 

Mike felt the urge as surely as he felt Chris steadying himself on his thigh, as certainly as he’d held Josh in his hand mere moments before. He was wound up so tightly, it was all he could think about. And yet, a memory surfaced that made him hesitate.

_Like you mean it, pledge._

Fresh uncertainty blossomed in his gut, his eyes dancing as he met Josh's gaze. But there was no maliciousness colouring Josh’s features; no mocking words spat from sneering lips; no laughter or taunts ringing in his ears. Doubt threatened to stir within him, but it quickly quietened - dulled by alcohol and the lingering memory of Josh's hand upon him.

Mike tensed and closed his eyes when Chris slowed, tongue cradling him as he eased him between firm lips.

_Christ…_

A slight nod and he was pushing himself up onto one elbow, turning slightly at the waist to look up at Josh while he ran his hand through blond hair.

_Don’t be so fucking coy._

Josh was still and tentative against his lips, as if awaiting permission.

This wasn't like that other thing. This wasn't about humiliation or proving anything to anyone. It wasn’t about power or dominance, or some kind of transaction to be made. It was a question, not an order; a question he knew the answer to. Once that thought stuck, he found himself reciprocating far more readily, eyes closing as his lips parted.

This… This was not a first. Not by a longshot.

\--

The exchange went mostly ignored; the words passing over Chris as he focused on the task at hand, his attention drawn to the tensing of Mike’s thigh beneath his palm, the fingers tangled in his hair and the unconscious rocking of the brunette’s hips, softened by his grip. It was only when Mike shifted beneath him that he lifted his head, distracted by the movement.

It didn’t take long to work out what was going on, and as he sat up, it became a lot clearer. Still working Mike in his hand, Chris watched; savouring the tension marking Josh’s features; the slow, steady bob of Mike’s head and the subtle movement of his jaw. Perhaps he should have been more taken aback by Josh's forwardness, but it was difficult to be anything other than immensely grateful for the view.

There was nothing uncertain about the way he handled Mike now, far beyond the point of shyness or hesitancy. Josh’s fingers formed a fist in his own hair as he tilted his head back, eyes closing as a long, unsteady exhale parted his lips. It was enough to make Chris' breath catch while he touched himself with greedy fingers, matching the pace of his other hand.

He wanted to touch him; to kiss him; to be closer to the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the heat of his skin. He wanted all of it.

It was with some clumsiness that Chris edged his way off the bed, shrugging off the hindrance of the jeans bunched around his knees, but it went unnoticed.

\--

_I’ll have what he’s having._

The line had come to him in a moment of surreal amusement as he’d gotten to his feet, not really expecting anything to come of it, but when Mike looked up at him with tempting brown eyes, it had gone from an amused thought to an ardent, very real desire.

Josh’s fingertips whispered over Mike’s hair, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was really there and that one clumsy movement could break whatever delicate chain of events had led to this. But it was real. Man, it was _definitely_ real. There was no imagining this.

It had been a while since he’d seen Mike naked, or close enough to it. Technically Mike was still wearing his jeans, but with them halfway down his legs, Josh supposed it was close enough. Mike had never been shy about his body, but why would he be? In the locker room after gym, years prior, Mike was comfortable enough to unabashedly change for the showers and talk to him at the same time like it was no big thing. Truthfully, Josh hadn’t thought anything of it either. Why would he? High school had been a time of peaks and troughs, of months of drought followed by sharp, vivid bursts of sexual urgency that had him lost in circular fantasies alone. Back in the days when his secret thoughts had taken him to other places - to feminine curves, dark blond hair and sultry smiles - Mike had never figured into it.

He looked up at the ceiling, grip tight in his own hair before his eyes closed.

What a difference time could make.

“Hey…”

The word, unexpectedly close, ghosted over his skin, tickling his neck. Wrapped up in the moment, he hadn’t noticed Chris move. It certainly hadn’t stopped Mike.

Chris ran his hand softly through his hair, gently prying his fingers loose before it snaked beneath his t-shirt. He kissed a soft trail from nape to earlobe, murmuring against his skin, “You’re wearing _way_ too many clothes.”

Josh steadied himself on Mike’s shoulder as Chris' hands roamed his chest, errant fingers brushing against his nipple.

“ _I'm_ wearing... too many?” It was supposed to be a flippant remark, sarcastic and said in jest, but the way the question hitched up in his chest and the uncertainty in his voice made his reply unintentionally innocent and strangely genuine.

Chris softly tugged at his jeans and underwear till they pooled at Josh’s ankles. When the blond held him again there was no disguising that, somewhere along the way, Chris had stripped, reduced to just his t-shirt. Josh settled into the firm touch of skin on skin with a groan as possessive hands held him close, preceding yet another warm, welcome slide into Mike’s mouth.

“Definitely.”

\--

Chris pulled Josh's t-shirt farther up his chest, exposing his stomach. “Hands up.”

It wasn't a demand, more of a murmured suggestion, but Josh lifted his arms above his head with childlike obedience. Usually the request was made on those far more innocent occasions when the giggling brunette was in no fit state to get changed for bed after a night out, and the familiarity of the gesture added fondness to the need Chris felt, rendering his touch gentler than it needed to be. With a little light tugging and twisting, the shirt came off and joined the other garments on the floor; casualties of missed throws and misjudged shots. Holding Josh close, Chris kissed his neck again and was rewarded with Josh pushing back against him. Hands trailing to the brunette’s hips, he peered over Josh's shoulder.

Mike's eyes were closed, those lips - so often quick with some snappy retort or comeback - moving slowly. He was taking his time with it; licking and sucking at an unhurried pace; displaying far more confidence than Chris had anticipated.

Josh turned Mike’s head with reverent fingers, hand tracing his jaw, and the movement coaxed moans from them both. A moment later, Chris watched as Mike began to touch himself with the self-assurance only someone who truly knew their own body possessed.

If someone had told him that one day he'd be doing this - watching Mike go to town on his best friend while he jerked himself off - Chris would've called bullshit. But that was exactly what was happening, even though part of him still couldn’t quite believe it. It had never occurred to him to think about this scenario before, but with it playing out in front of him - his eyes drinking in every little detail - he couldn’t help wondering why not.

With Josh's weight against him, Chris found himself slowly rubbing up against his backside, the movements made unconsciously as he murmured hotly in his ear, “You don't even know how good you look right now.”

He didn’t. Josh honestly didn’t know how stunning he was, how hard he was turning him on, and he wasn’t even trying. He seemed to have so little awareness of how others perceived him physically, perhaps more understandably concerned with less trivial worries, but if he did, he didn’t let on. It didn’t seem like a false modesty thing; Josh genuinely seemed like he couldn’t care less about how he looked most days, somehow falling effortlessly into an appealing state that had always caught Chris' eye, whether or not he’d fully known it. Nothing seemed rehearsed or for show; just raw, genuine emotion and urges governing his actions. Like the way he was right now: standing there completely naked save for the bracelets strung around his wrist, just going with it and looking damn fine. It was one of the many things Chris loved about him.

What Chris had taken at first for Josh steadying himself on his thigh became something else as his boyfriend’s hand slipped between them in wordless answer, eagerly seeking him out. Burying his face in Josh’s neck, Chris panted against his skin while he worked him insistently in his hand.

_Now what?_

“Nnh… Chr…”

His name on the tip of Josh's tongue tightened his grip on the brunette’s hips.

 _You_ know _now what._

The question tumbled instinctively from Chris' lips, “Where are the--”

“There.”

The reply was abrupt, accompanied by a sharp nod in the direction of Chris' nightstand on the other side of the room. And then it seemed that Josh wasn’t really up to talking anymore as his gaze returned to Mike. 

Reluctantly, Chris let him go.

\--

Josh didn’t know the ins and outs of all of Mike’s sexual exploits, but he had a feeling he might have omitted a story or two.

What if he…? It was getting close now. Was that okay? They hadn't talked this through. Hell, they hadn’t talked _anything_ through, not really.

_At least give the guy some warning._

“Mmmike…?”

But when Mike didn’t let up, instead tending to him with renewed enthusiasm, it seemed he’d mistaken the deterrent for encouragement.

Josh exhaled sharply through pouting lips.

He _could_ just… Man, and he wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. But...

Josh pulled back and gently but firmly urged Mike away with his hand. For a moment he stood there catching his breath then he stepped out of his clothes while Mike looked up at him, dazed.

He didn’t ask permission before claiming Mike’s mouth this time - they were way beyond that now - and soft lips met his own just as eagerly before Mike pulled away, shifting his weight on the comforter as he pulled off his jeans and underwear, kicking them loose onto the floor.

Catching sight of Chris out the corner of his eye, Josh leaned over on unsteady knees to take him by the wrist, beckoning him over.

Mike was on his knees, the three of them face to face on the small bed, and though a silence had opened up, Chris was quick to fill it, kissing Josh firmly. As Chris' hand slipped around his waist, the blond turned to Mike and broached the gap between them, meeting his lips while Josh looked on.

\--

Emily didn’t exist anymore. As far as Mike was concerned, little else beyond the confines of the bed mattered right then; his mind lost in that hazy place where the scent of sex hung heavy; a place dominated by Chris' tongue against his own and Josh’s hand trailing between his shoulderblades. He was vaguely aware of Josh moving away as the mattress shifted beneath his knees, but with his own hand pressed to the wall behind him and Chris holding him upright, Mike regained his balance.

“You wanna do this?”

Mike and Chris turned to the question. The foil wrapper held loosely between Josh's fingers left little room for ambiguity.

Mike could honestly say, hand on heart, that he had never ever thought about Josh in that way before. Never. But Josh had never looked at him like this before, or touched him that way, or kissed him like that. Those things were enough to bring the idea to his attention.

A year ago he wouldn't have. A day ago. Hell, a few hours ago... 

...Okay, so maybe a few hours ago he might have; just when he was trying to put together the pieces of the Chris and Josh puzzle, a few beers in and attempting to make sense of it. _Then_ he might have thought ever so briefly about what it might be like to fuck Josh Washington. But right then, with Josh kneeling hot and eager before him, looking at him with what his sex-addled brain could only describe as ‘fuck-me’ eyes… Yes. Right then Mike was definitely thinking about it.

The answer was on the tip of his tongue, but before he could reply, Josh slipped the rubber into Chris' hand. 

_Oh?_

“...Yeah?” 

It seemed it was just as unexpected for Chris if the hint of surprise in his voice was anything to go by, but Josh’s reply was firm and certain. “Yeah.”

Chris' lustful smile was fleeting, swept away by Josh's lips as he kissed the brunette hard with something akin to gratefulness. Turning the wrapper over in his hand, Chris looked from Josh to Mike.

“Only if you wanna.” He gave Mike a perfunctory shrug, those warm blue eyes searching his own, adding, “There's other stuff we can-- I mean, if you don’t… but…” he trailed off with a self-deprecating smile.

So, this was how it was going to play out; not a brunette, but a blond after all. And in that moment, the appeal of the blond in question was undeniable. That mouth, those eyes, flushed cheeks… the hand on his waist and the hard curve brushing against his thigh...

Was this taking it too far?

 _That train left the station a_ long _time ago._

_Nothing leaves this room._

That’s what he’d said. It’s what they’d agreed, and it was what Mike was counting on because it would take a hell of a lot to talk himself down. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think straight, rather his thoughts were so focused that he could think about little else. He needed to bury himself somewhere hot and tight. Refusal wasn’t an option anymore.

Mike’s mouth curled up into a loose, lopsided smile.

_Fuck it._

His usual eloquence deserting him, he summed up his many thoughts with a simple, “Yeah.”

Giving voice to his consent triggered something inside him, and the kiss he sealed it with was more incensed than before. Suddenly Chris' hands couldn’t get enough of him, dormant muscle belying the strength of his arms as the blond pulled him close, and the kiss of skin on skin only further reassured Mike that he'd made the right call.

“Turn around.” Chris said through a breathless smile.

Mike faltered.

_Oh._

Wait… This wasn't--

_Wait a minute._

But Chris didn’t give him a chance to do much of anything as he kissed him again; his hand firm on the nape of Mike’s neck as the other slid to his backside.

This wasn't what he'd signed up for.

Chris wasn't showing any sign of backing down, quite the opposite. In that possessive embrace, with Chris hard and insistent against his stomach, there seemed to be little talking the guy out of the idea.

_You don’t have t--_

The thought was cut short. Mike knew he didn’t have to; Chris wasn’t like that. One word was all it would take and that would be that. But Mike’s thoughts were elsewhere now. He was wondering all the things he didn’t let himself wonder, like how it might feel with someone who wasn’t just making a power play; someone who actually wanted him for more than that. He was being asked, not told, but was it better having a choice and being accountable for his actions?

That sweater, discarded on the floor some time ago, had to be earned. He’d rationalised it and put it in a mental box that he didn’t let himself dwell on, but now that box was open again.

But that was like… like a business transaction, right? That’s what he’d told himself. It didn't explain the way his body had reacted, though; that inconvenient, disquieting detail brushed aside, discarded from his recollection.

He opened his eyes to find Chris watching him, lips mere inches from his own, and though there was eagerness there, it was untainted by anything darker. Eye to eye, Chris traced Mike’s collarbone with his thumb, trailing an unsteady line across his skin.

One word and that would be the end of it.

The nod Mike gave was slight, almost imperceptible, his voice little more than a murmur, “...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

\--

Maybe some part of Josh had hesitated when he'd returned from the nightstand - a greedy, selfish part - but it had quickly quietened, replaced with the strangely benevolent feeling that guided his hand now, making long thorough strokes with slick fingers. After all, this wasn't about him, not really. He'd known that all along.

He would've, definitely. With Chris' assent and Mike naked and willing, there was no question about it. But Josh knew better. He’d seen the way Chris looked at Mike; their flirty banter over the years more sincere than Chris would perhaps have liked to let on. Chris wanted this, it was his deal, and he didn’t want to be the one to get in the way of that. And so he’d stepped aside thanks to some kind of twisted generosity, though watching them now it was difficult to claim the decision was entirely selfless.

He tossed the bottle in Chris' direction with a lazy underarm throw.

Upright on his knees with Chris settling behind him, Mike was trying not to think too much. Thinking led to questions, questions needed answers, and he had no answers to give anymore. Wet fingers slid between his buttocks and made his breath catch. Somehow, he found his voice, “How much of that shit d’you wanna use?”

“You’ll thank me, man.” Chris murmured distractedly, squeezing the bottle a final time before dropping it on the comforter. 

Maybe he was going kind of OTT with it - the alcohol had perhaps made him a little too generous - but Chris knew what it was like to be on the flipside of this situation and possessed enough empathy to err on the side of caution. Besides, it wasn’t anything a shower wouldn't fix.

How Chris' reply could be both reassuring and unnerving was beyond Mike, but it didn’t really matter when probing fingers pushed against him without warning, slow and shallow. He closed his eyes, willing himself to relax while Chris held him steady. “Mmfh...”

Deep in concentration, Chris pressed a little harder; need making him bold. It was taking a lot of restraint to take his time with Mike spread like this - a hell of a lot.

_What’s the rush?_

Mike: naked, oiled up and waiting for him. It was a pretty good reason to speed things up. 

Mike had only just become used to the sensation of Chris' fingers when the blond stopped. He heard tearing foil; caught a glimpse of Chris' t-shirt dropping to the floor, swiftly followed by the feeling of bare skin pressed against his back.

Josh was watching him with bated breath, barely any space between them as they kneeled face to face on the small bed. He returned his gaze self-consciously.

Chris’ thighs shifted beneath his own and spread his legs farther apart. A firm grip on his waist steadied him, anchoring him in place while hot breath tickled his neck. And then he felt him; hard, steady, and undeniably there. 

A patient hand slowly eased him down a touch, its grip tightening on his waist.

“Jesus!”

Mike stopped; his body tensing instinctively in protest. He gripped Josh by the shoulders, almost hard enough to bruise, but Josh didn’t complain. Instead, he leaned into his touch and tucked his hands under Mike’s arms to support him.

For a moment, Josh was unsteady on his knees, but he quickly recovered. “You’ve gotta relax.”

With a wordless nod, Mike tried to follow his advice, but it was difficult to relax when he was worked up and strangely vulnerable.

Slowly - _ever_ so slowly - he pushed back, bit by bit. Panting through his teeth, it seemed to take an age; every small movement felt acutely despite the drunken haze, till finally, thankfully, he was flush against Chris' skin. “ _Fuck_ …”

Chris bit back a low groan as he pressed his forehead against sweat-damp hair. He’d expected Mike to take his time, and he had, but kneeling there with the brunette backed up against him… It was worth the wait. His hand slid from waist to thigh, trailing hungry lines with blunt nails across Mike’s skin. But he didn’t move. Even though every inch of him was screaming to, he stayed there, as still as his body would allow. 

Josh ran his fingers through Mike’s hair, brushing it back from his face. When Mike finally opened his eyes, Josh was looking back at him, close enough to take in every little detail of his face and see all the unspoken thoughts lurking in his eyes.

With Mike settled into his lap, Chris’ hands were working overtime; one moment running down the brunette’s sides - muscle shivering under his touch - the next working the flesh of taut thighs.

Josh watched him over Mike’s shoulder and drank in the scene. Impulse control wasn’t always one of Chris' strong points, but right then, despite his apparent restlessness, he was demonstrating the patience of a saint.

“You okay?” Josh asked unsteadily.

But Mike couldn’t speak yet. He nodded vaguely, eyes closing as he dared to raise himself up again. “ _Nnh_ \--”

“Don’t rush it.”

He didn’t plan on it.

Each time it got easier and soon he was moving at a slow yet steady pace, exhaling through gritted teeth with each dip of his hips. He only hoped his legs wouldn’t give out anytime soon because it felt like a very real possibility. “Jesus… _uhh_...”

His muttered blasphemies were silenced by Josh’s mouth on his own as he closed the gap between them.

Chris placed his hands on the slight curve of Mike’s hips, his breath hot and ragged against Mike’s neck as he gave in to the urge and pulled the brunette down into his lap a bit too eagerly, rewarded with constricting heat while Mike mouthed protest against Josh’s lips.

“Mmsorry...”

Chris mumbled the apology against the tense tendons of Mike’s neck between penitent kisses. And he was sorry, kind of. But not quite as sorry as he could’ve been.

“You umm… You feel-- Mmh…” he trailed off, words escaping him.

With Chris' teeth gently tugging at his ear, Mike panted and watched as Josh sat back on his heels, his hand busy between his legs. He was past the point of pain or discomfort now; somewhere new where gritted teeth and clenched muscles were gone, dulled by slick repetition and the heady breathless moans in his ear. But it was a frustrating place to be. He didn’t know if it was the drink, but he was feeling everything distantly - not quite numb but not quite there, either.

Arching his back, Mike slipped his arm behind him, clutching blond hair while he touched himself with idle fingers. Chris had slowed, stopping momentarily to allow Mike to set the pace, but with impatience getting the better of him he dared to push up again.

And then Mike's whole face changed.

_There it is._

“There.” Josh spoke for him because he knew that look; that feeling written so clearly on his face. He'd heard and said the word before, uttered in the heat of the moment with far more urgency. A simple word was all it took to pinpoint that one little movement or sweet spot that made his toes curl and his mind go blank. “Like that.”

Mike’s eyes were closed, mouth open as Chris happily obliged. Suddenly he didn’t feel quite so numb anymore. “ _Nnngodfuh_ … fuck…”

“Yeah… Yeah, just like that.”

Spurred on by the string of profanities and eager words, Chris held Mike against him, his arm a possessive, solid barrier across his chest that kept him still while he turned Mike’s head, kissing him hard.

Josh couldn't tear his eyes away. He was no stranger to what he was seeing, but there was something more to this level of voyeurism - two guys he knew, right there, touchable and fuckable if he wanted it. Chris panted, groaning when Mike ground against him, and Josh watched through a haze of desire while Mike held himself, fucking his hand in time with the downward thrust of his body. Weary legs slowed the pace and soon Mike was on all fours, palms pressed to the comforter, head bowed.

Josh had to still his hand and pause to pace himself. If he kept going he'd be done any second, and while his body begged to give in, he wanted to savour it for as long as possible. He closed his eyes, jaw clenching as he forced himself to stop, but when he reopened them to the sight of Chris looking back at him - heavy-lidded as he met Josh’s eyes - he knew his efforts were in vain.

Witnessing Chris in a way he'd only ever snatched glimpses of; seeing it fully, all of it… It was too much.

“I’ma…. Uhh…”

Nope. There was no fighting it.

It was difficult for Chris to keep up any pretence of gentility as he watched Josh come - the sight of his boyfriend’s messy hands, tense shoulders and that look he knew so well only adding to the increasing desperation driving his hips. He let his breath out slowly through his teeth, throat tightening as Mike groaned, thighs tensing as he slid into him.

Mike lowered himself onto his forearms and pressed his face against the comforter. He felt the weight of Chris' chest against his back - the blond breathing hard and fast against his skin as he reached around to pump him in his hand - and groaned each time Chris thrust into him, not caring who heard, not caring it was Chris who was making him. He could hear himself - he was vaguely aware of the sounds he was making - but they were distant, seeming to come from someone and somewhere else entirely. Chris was moaning too; low desperate sounds that brought him even closer.

“Ahfuck… fuck, man...” his voice was cracking, but it didn’t matter, “Aah…”

He was so close now, he could feel it catching up to him - so hard and full and wanting it so badly. It had become completely overwhelming, but he didn’t want it to stop. He just wanted that feeling to overwhelm him for as long as possible. But it didn't last.

The comforter muffled Mike’s groan as he came, eyes screwing shut.

Chris had been trying hard to keep it at bay, but the fight was short-lived as a very important realisation quickly dawned on him.

He’d made Mike come.

Michael. Mikey. Class President Michael Munroe.

_Fuck._

The thought claimed him as he buried himself deep, breath shuddering in his chest as he came on the heels of Mike’s orgasm, groaning mingled pleasure and relief as the brunette tensed around him and pulsed in his hand.

When he could finally think again, Chris found himself leaning on Mike, arms wound tight around the other's naked waist. He stayed there, letting his breath even out as Mike’s back rose and fell beneath him with the brunette’s own laboured breath.

“... _Dude_ …”

A breathless chuckle tickled Mike’s neck, followed by a kiss on a sweat-damp shoulder. He felt ragdoll limp, relaxed to the point of exhaustion, tired limbs succumbing to fatigue as he sank into the comforter. He could get up, maybe, but it didn’t seem like a big deal - not something he really wanted to do at all.

Eventually, with some reluctance, Chris moved. It was difficult to concentrate right then, but practice and muscle memory helped, allowing him to go through the motions and deal with the aftermath with little thought. Vaguely cleaned up, he patted Mike on the back. “Wait there.”

As if he was going anywhere.

The weight of the towel on his back a moment later opened Mike’s eyes and provided him with a little dignity, though they were probably beyond that now.

“You… you want a drink or something?”

He was eye-level with Chris' legs; now partly clad in boxer shorts. Turning to look up, he managed to shake his head, his eyes heavy, and Chris affectionately tousled his hair with a weary smile on his face. He watched with mild interest as Chris left to join his boyfriend on the other bed. Sitting there, Josh looked as dazed as Mike felt. 

“You okay, J? I…”

Chris was still talking, but the words became vague. Mike saw Josh reply, but didn’t take in the murmured conversation before Chris lifted Josh’s chin and kissed him. Succumbing to lethargy, it was the last thing he saw.


	5. Chapter 5

A cough shuddered in Mike’s chest, but it didn’t fully wake him, instead bringing him to that limbo state where the realness of things was debatable. A noise to his left penetrated the fug of sleep, but his eyes remained firmly closed. It sounded sort of like a knock, but he couldn’t quite place it. Somewhere distant yet irritatingly closeby came another noise: the squeak of an unoiled contraption that he couldn't make sense of. Again, it went ignored. It was only when the bitter smell of fresh coffee reached him that he dared open his eyes.

The world was sideways and made no sense. He was in a bed, but there was another bed across the room from him. A cup of water sat on a nightstand between the two, beside a mug overhung with wisps of steam.

Coffee. Okay, that much he understood, but it didn’t help him pinpoint his whereabouts. Struggling to focus, he could just about make out the movie posters on the far wall, but he didn’t bother trying to make sense of them, either. 

Giving up, Mike rolled onto his back and immediately regretted it as the contents of his head rattled around his skull. It was all too much to deal with. “Urgh…”

Another creak caught his attention. With one eye closed, he peered out from the warm embrace of the comforter.

Josh was sitting in the battered office chair with one leg tucked under him, the other bent at the knee, bare foot pressed to the edge of his desk. He was dressed in baggy plaid pajama pants and a loose t-shirt Mike was fairly certain belonged to Chris, judging by the size. At the sound of rustling sheets, he turned in his chair and took a sip from the mug of coffee cradled in his hands. “Morning.”

Mike edged up the pillows into a vaguely comfortable position and knuckled the sleep from his eye. “Is it?”

Glancing at the computer, Josh shrugged. “Close enough.” He took another sip of coffee. “Man, you look like I feel. How you doing?”

Mike ran his hand through his hair. His head felt awful, his stomach just as bad. His throat was dry and the taste of beer lingered unpleasantly on his tongue. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“You can't drink for shit, can you?”

Mike took the good-natured jibe without complaint. “Seems that way. You?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I made an ass of myself and my liver hates me. But I didn’t throw up and I came home with my wallet. So, pretty good, I guess?’

“That’s something.” Mike managed to summon up an amused grunt. “How much did we drink?” he asked with a slight grimace, not entirely certain he wanted to know the answer. 

Josh gestured to the trash bag slumped beside the door. “Enough, trust me.”

“Christ…” With a groan, he mustered up the energy to sit up then reached over for the mug of coffee. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Sipping the coffee, Mike took in the room from this new angle. He was in Chris' bed for some reason. Across the room, Josh’s bed was completely stripped - the sheets and comforter in a tangled pile on the floor beside it. Another sip of coffee later and the absence of the beer pong table became apparent, the red cups that had littered it the night before no doubt joining the empty cans and bottles inside the trash bag slumped by the door. How he’d managed to sleep through the pair cleaning up was impressive, but perhaps unsurprising given the state of his head. Finally, he noticed the empty wastebasket placed strategically beside his bed.

_Thoughtful._

All of it made sense on the surface, but he still felt like he was forgetting something.

Looking down at himself, Mike realised he was only wearing his underwear and a-shirt. On its own that observation wasn’t unusual. So why did he find it strange?

“Your stuff’s there.”

Sure enough, his clothes were folded in a stack beside the bed; neatly piled up with his belt coiled round atop his jeans. 

“Where's the other one?”

“Chris?”

He nodded and immediately regretted it, wincing.

“He went for a shower a while ago. Said something about breakfast.” Josh shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t question what he does anymore.”

Mike put the coffee down. It was good - jet black, unsweetened and reassuringly strong - but did little to slake his thirst. He reached for the water on the nightstand, but managed to knock the cup to the floor.

“Crap, sorry.”

He went to get up and deal with the water spreading across the carpet, but Josh was already out of his chair.

Scooping up a towel from the floor, Josh crouched down beside the bed and placed the now empty cup on the nightstand before dabbing at the carpet. “Relax, man. I’ve got it.”

Mike blinked. There was something familiar about what Josh had said. Something--

_“You’ve gotta relax.”_

And then it hit him. All of it. Not scene by scene, nor in increments as was sometimes the case, but all at once: a giant mural etched across his memory, painted in broad, vivid strokes. And what a picture it was.

_Fuck._

_What did I…?_

_Fuck, fuck, fuck..._

He was awake now, that was for damn sure.

It all made perfect sense now: his state of undress; the tacky feeling on his skin; the smell of stale sweat and sex hanging in the air that the pair’s cleaning efforts hadn’t quite gotten rid of; the way his body ached - unused muscles--

_Fuuuuuuuuck._

“There.” Oblivious, Josh spread the towel over the damp patch on the carpet, looking pleased with himself. But as he peered up at Mike and recognised the mild panic in his eyes, he faltered.

“We…?”

Josh glanced away, unable to meet his eyes for a moment, and dabbed at the floor instead. Finally, he met Mike’s gaze. There was something distinctly unsure about the timid smile he wore, but it did little to dislodge the memory of Josh looking at him in an entirely different way the night before.

“ _Fuck_.”

“...A little, yeah. Well, a _lot_ , actually.” Awkward laughter followed as Josh attempted to make light of the situation, but it soon died when he realised that the joke had fallen flat. 

With his head in his hand, Mike was at a loss for words.

_Think._

Thinking hurt.

_Okay, don’t think, don’t think._

“That bad, huh?”

“I… _no_ , but.. uh…”

It wasn’t like him to get flustered about anything, but with his head feeling eggshell delicate and one of the guys he'd spent the night with looking up at him, it was proving difficult to be his usual articulate self.

“It's not that. It's…”

What? What was it, exactly?

“I… I’m sorry if I said or did anything out of line.” Josh looked as awkward as Mike felt, wincing through the apology with only a fraction more eloquence, “My head’s still kinda fuzzy to the details, but I remember… enough.” He pressed at the towel in an effort to fill the awkward silence. “I’m not usually like that.”

Mike wasn’t sure how to respond when memories of the very same behaviour Josh was trying to excuse himself from were still fresh in his mind. The thoughts stirred up an uncomfortable mix of conflicting feelings in his gut.

_“You like that?”_

Josh was gazing up at him with barely concealed concern in his eyes.

_“Yeah… Yeah, just like th--”_

“You didn't. Do anything out of line, I mean.”

Despite the bluntness of his reply, Josh seemed reassured by the simple statement; the knot in his chest visibly loosening as he ventured a smile. “Good, ‘cause I was worried that… Good.”

Josh seemed engrossed in the towel for a long moment before he picked it up and got to his feet, returning to his desk. Mike watched him settle into the chair. 

_You should say something. This is fucking awkward enough._

“Look. About last night…”

Josh turned in the chair to face him.

_...and this is the part where you say something._

But he didn’t need to say anything else, his unvoiced thoughts already guessed at. Without a word, Josh ran his fingers over his lips and mimed locking his mouth before tossing away an imaginary key. The mime eased the uneasy feeling in Mike’s stomach, if only a little. At least they understood each other in that regard.

Still, the awkwardness remained. He wasn’t used to this and was most definitely out of his comfort zone. He’d had morning after conversations before, he knew how they went, but not how _this_ was supposed to go.

Mike sipped his coffee. It was lukewarm, but he still drank it, needing some kind of prop to busy himself with. Josh was doing the same, watching him from across the room, though his gaze didn’t possess the same predatory undertone of the night before.

“You should visit more often, though, you know. Maybe.” Josh shrugged.

Mike swallowed and cleared his throat. Maybe he’d been wrong to relax quite so quickly.

Why was it so awkward?

_It’s not every day you wake up and realise you’ve pretty much fucked two of your friends, genius._

He exhaled quiet relief as the door opened, but it was accompanied by the unwelcome smell of something hot and greasy. 

Chris' coat glistened with melting snow and his shoes trailed wetly on the carpet. He was barely in the room, plastic carrier in hand, when he noticed that Mike was far more conscious than when he’d left. “You’re awake.”

Mike placed the coffee on the nightstand. “Yeah…”

Chris paused by the door, taking a moment to read the scene before covering his hesitance with a well-placed smile and breezy tone, “I come bearing gifts.”

“Yeah?” Josh asked.

Shrugging off his snow-flecked coat, Chris stepped out of his sneakers. “Breakfast burritos, bro. Extra bacon, extra cheese, extra large.” His smile broadened as he took one out of the bag and handed it to Josh. 

Eyeing it skeptically and taking the offering with some reluctance, it seemed that even his partner crime wasn’t sold on the idea.

“Hangover one oh one: Bacon fixes everything.” He planted a kiss on Josh’s forehead. “Trust me.”

“God no.”

He turned toward Mike’s disapproval. “Come on. It’ll fix you right up.”

“No. Not happening.” Mike pulled the comforter back up over his head and rolled onto his side. Even the thought of normal food - let alone whatever Chris thought passed for food - turned his stomach.

“Well, at least have this.”

The words preceded a soft thud as something sank into the blankets beside him. Daring to emerge, Mike made a show of pulling down the comforter to inspect the bottle of Gatorade. He gave the blond a quizzical look.

“I thought you could use the energy.” Chris wore the slightest of smirks. “Strenuous physical activity. Electrolytes, you know?”

Why did he think Chris would make this easy?

Mike dropped the bottle onto the bed, thoroughly unimpressed. “You’re funny. Really.”

When no smile followed, Chris scratched his neck, rendered awkward. His voice softened, “Hey, I’m just trying to clear the air.”

“I wish you would. This room...”

“It's, um... it's snowing out. You wanna be warm, or...?” Chris gestured to the window.

It was strange seeing Mike like this. There was an edge to his voice that Chris wasn’t used to. 

_Time to address the elephant in the room, I guess._

“You okay? I mean, I know that wasn't the norm for you. For us, either.”

“You think?”

There it was again - the sharp edge that made it difficult for Chris to be quite so easy-going about it all. He tried again.

“I mean… I--” Chris glanced at Josh. “ _We_ had a good time. Right?” He and Josh exchanged looks, but when his boyfriend offered nothing more than an unhelpful, self-conscious shrug, Chris pressed on, “You were pretty out of it, and I don’t…”

Chris was at a loss for a moment, trailing off when he noticed the hickey on Mike’s neck, but he didn’t mention it. With his head firmly in his hand, it looked like Mike had enough on his mind. “...It’s just a thing that happened. I just don't want it to be a _bad_ thing.”

Mike wasn’t used to this. He was suddenly very aware of his state of undress, and the ache in his head was second only to the discomfort he felt confronted by this brand new feeling that left him wishing that the ground would swallow him up.

“It was just some--”

_“Just some guys--”_

“Chris… Not now.” Mike cut in before the memory could fully surface.

Several seconds passed before Chris dared to speak again, tilting his head to one side, “Are we okay?”

There was genuine concern there - an anxiety in Chris' voice that didn’t suit him at all, no longer hidden behind any pretence of humour. Looking at him, it was clear to Mike that he needed to reassure the blond just as much as he needed to reassure himself. He hadn't meant to be so defensive.

With a sigh, Mike’s voice softened, “We're fine. We're good.”

“...You sure you don't wanna talk ab--”

“Fine. Sure. Just not right now.”

Mike winced as Josh opened the curtain to let in daylight and the sight of snow falling beyond the glass. Squinting through his headache, his attention returned to Chris. “One thing at a time, okay?”

Chris' relief was palpable in the small room. He nodded, satisfied enough with the answer. “Sure.” 

“Your phone.” Josh said after a moment, finding his voice. 

Mike watched Josh curiously as he pulled the phone free from the charger trailing to his laptop.

“It was dead so I charged it.”

Chris acted as middle man and fetched the phone from Josh then handed it to Mike. With a nod of thanks, Mike took it, glad for the distraction.

Mike glanced up from the screen as the phone powered on. With their guest occupied, Chris had moved to stand behind Josh at the computer, leaning over his shoulder with an arm draped lazily around him while he continued to extol the virtues of the breakfast burrito Josh had put to one side.

_At least_ they _seem okay._

He sighed softly.

The fooling around wasn't the awkward part. It was this exact moment that had been at the back of his mind the night before, making him hesitate, at least at first - the talking about it. The aftermath. But maybe that was the strangest thing about all of this. Sure, this was awkward. _Really_ fucking awkward. But the world hadn’t ended. Hell hadn’t frozen over. In fact, barely anything had changed at all on the surface of things. It was normal, even. Well, the new normal which involved his two friends seeing each other.

The phone lit up and coloured icons populated the screen. Then a buzz. Then another.

_What now?_

An unread text, two missed calls and a voicemail; all from the same number.

_Great._

He opened the text.

‘I know what I said but we need to talk. Call me.’

Blunt, but what else did he expect from her?

What was there to talk about? _She_ was the one who'd wanted a break in the first place. _She_ was the one who said not to call. Did she want to get back together? Was she seeing someone else and needed to break it to him?

Mike sighed at length as he reluctantly added another conversation he really didn't need to his list of things to do. He let the phone fall from his hand onto the comforter. Agonizing over it wasn't helping.

Chris sat down on the bare mattress opposite with the bag beside him and a burrito in hand. “All good?” he asked through a bite. 

“Hm?”

Chris gestured to the phone.

Mike gave a vague, wordless reply as he sat up and turned to slip his legs out from beneath the sheets, bare feet pressing against the damp carpet. 

He needed a shower, then he needed to get his head together enough for the ride home. There was no way he was under the limit and he probably wouldn't be for a few hours. It would be dark by the time he was able to drive, and he hated driving at night. Hours and hours on the road in the dark with only the radio and his own thoughts for company loomed ahead... Then there was the talking. He probably needed to talk to these guys at some point since Chris seemed so intent on analysing the hell out of it. Then there was the Emily situation to deal with.

Mike ran his fingers through his hair then picked up the coffee and took a big gulp.

_What a fucking Sunday._

“Screw it, gimme one of those.”

Chris looked at him curiously. “Oh yeah?”

“Before I change my mind.”

Chris rummaged around in the bag and pulled out another foil wrapped offering. With a soft smile, he handed it to Mike. “Here you go, man.”

It was slow-going, but Mike peeled back the foil and took a bite. As far as comfort food went it wasn't half bad. Not completely awful, anyway.

Before he could comment, a wad of napkins hit him square in the chest, unexpected enough to leave a surprised frown in its wake. He looked over mid-chew to find Chris staring up at the ceiling, a picture of innocence before the blond lowered his gaze, meeting his eyes with a quirked eyebrow.

Wiping his mouth on one of the napkins, Mike tried not to smile, but it was difficult when Chris' lips formed a soft goading smirk.

He sighed and took another bite.

_One thing at a time._

**Author's Note:**

> A fic request for my shipmate, who asked for this OT3. I made him bottom, are you happy now? Sorry it took so long!
> 
> Tumblr: [@messofcurls-creative](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com/)


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